Half in the Shadows
by lighthouse11
Summary: When a potentially dangerous stranger appears in Hell's Kitchen, Matt Murdock is on hand to keep his city safe. But when research into the case starts drawing the attention of the Avengers, Matt realises he may be pulling on a thread he doesn't want to unravel.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is set after the events of the Marvel/Netflix series of 'Daredevil' and the film "Avengers: Age of Ultron". There will be some references to not of these, which may be spoilers. I am also uploading this onto Ao3.

Disclaimer: I do not own the names of characters/places, etc. These belong to Marvel.

Please read, reply, favourite, follow and enjoy! Your patronage is very much appreciated.

* * *

Matt stood on the rooftop, scanning the city. Tuesday nights were usually quiet; no weekend revellers, no groups of tourists, just workers just want to go home and watch whatever reality crap was on television. The usual few druggos and drunks were around, and a couple of other homeless guys, but they weren't a threat. Not tonight. Tonight they were just unfortunate to be out in the cold.

Perhaps tonight would be quiet, Matt thought. He'd stand on the roof for about an hour all the same, just to be sure. But everything was calm. Ordinary. A block over a toddler cried in frustration, too tired to be reasoned with. Two blocks down someone was serving vegetable lasagne. The teenage twin boys in the building across the road were laughing and wrestling and getting scolded by their mom as they crashed into the wall. At least a dozen households nearby were watching the basketball. A lone stranger wandered disorientated down an alleyway off 48th.

Matt spun around to face the direction in which he sensed the stranger. The stranger smelt as though he'd been sleeping rough for some time. He was nervous and confused, his heart rate was too high and his breathing laboured. He had a slight fever and it had been a long time since he'd had a proper meal. A very long time. Impossibly long.

Leaping across the rooftops, Matt positioned himself above the stranger, blocking out all other distractions. The stranger walked with his head bowed, shoulders hunched, and hands deep in his pockets. He didn't want to be seen.

Matt stood on the rooftop, just out of the stranger's eye line, should the man look up. The stranger glanced around, as though he knew he was being watched. His heart rate quickened and he picked up his pace, pulling his shoulders up even higher. As he did moved, Matt noticed something wrong with the sound the man made. Something unnatural. Something he'd never heard before. Similar to a hip-replacement, perhaps? Something artificial. Something metallic and cold. Something was wrong.

Matt leaped down from the roof and overtook the stranger in the shadows, sensing it was best not to approach the man from behind.

The stranger stopped."I know you're there," the man said, his voice tight. He exhaled, and Matt could almost hear the stranger's chest rattle.

Matt felt the tension increase the stranger's body as the man clenched his fists tightly in his pockets. Matt stepped out of the shadows into the dim of the alleyway. "Why are you in Hell's Kitchen?" he asked, slowly approaching the stranger.

The man shook his head. His heart pounded. "It's not how I remember it," the stranger said. Matt could feel the hot tears welling in the man's eyes. "I don't know the city any more. I thought - out of anywhere, here, but - I don't know." The stranger took a step back.

"Who are you?" Matt asked, but that seemed to be the wrong question. The stranger's whole demeanour changed in an instant, as he stiffened, stood up straight and swung a punch at Matt, narrowly missing as Matt dodged just in time. Matt swerved as the man swung again, this time managing to grab the man's arm. He quickly let go as what he felt underneath the man's jumper was not flesh and bone, but steely and hard. Matt released why he hadn't recognised the noise; because he'd never met anyone with a metal arm before.

"I don't want to fight with you," Matt said, blocking a hit, "I want to help."

"You can't," the man said through gritted teeth, and swung at Matt again. He was quicker than Matt would have given him credit to be and too well trained to be an ordinary homeless guy. "You know nothing about me."

"I know you need help. You're hurt," Matt said, ducking from a punch. The stranger just grunted and continued to fight. "I want to help you." Matt recalled reading about a guy with a metal arm. Something in the news a year or two back? "Why are you in Hell's Kitchen?" he asked again.

The man made no reply, save a grunt and continued to attack. Everything about the man's movements were so methodical, as though he wasn't thinking at all. As though some primal fight or flight instinct had just taken over.

Matt hit the man, noticing a pattern in his movements, which sent the stranger stumbling into a wall. "Why have you come back to New York? Who are you?"

The man yelled and ran at Matt. Matt ducked to block a hit, and got the stranger in the guts. The man dropped to the ground.

Click.

The stranger sprung back to his feet and again ran at Matt. Again Matt dodged him, but only just. They fought quickly, the stranger now trying to stab Matt as well as punch him. But now Matt was intrigued. Why would a homeless guy have a metal arm and a fancy Gerber knife. A WWII commando-style Gerber knife. A truck rumbled past along 10th, and for just a fraction of a section, Matt's concentration was broken. The stranger noticed this momentary lapse in concentration, took advantage and pinned Matt against the wall with the metal arm, which also held the knife up against Matt's throat.

Matt waited. He couldn't compete with a guy with a metal arm. The stranger was too strong, now that Matt was pinned. He could hear the man's heart pounding, feel the fear and terror surging through him.

"What are you waiting for?" Matt choked. Matt kicked himself for engaging. Why did he have to be curious? Why couldn't he just leave the stranger alone? He knew why. Because the stranger was frightened and hurt and lost, and it was his job to protect his city, and those in it.

"You're - you're…" the man stammered.

"Finish it," Matt coughed.

The man hesitated, then let go and stepped back. Matt dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. "I don't know this place anymore," the man said slowly, his hands shaking, and closed and pocketed the knife.

Matt panted and gasped for air. "Who are you?"

"I don't know."

Matt was about to answer "that's a lie", when the stranger's heartbeat told him it wasn't. The man honestly didn't know who he was. Matt used the wall to help himself stand. "Let me help you."

"You can't."

Another truck rumbled past, along with a motorbike. "Why have to come back to New York?" Matt asked again. He was met with silence. Matt listened. The man was gone. "So this is how that feels," he said quietly to the empty alleyway. He listened harder, and could hear the stressed heartbeat and metal arm disappearing into the night. Matt began to follow the stranger, when a police car sped past along 10th, sirens blaring, blocking out all other noise. The car passed, and so did Matt's chance at following the stranger.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, good," Foggy said as Matt entered the office. "You have to settle our argument."

"Foggy, you realise Matt will be the worst at this," Karen laughed, and leant against the desk.

"I don't care," Foggy insisted, and folded his arms.

"What am I settling?" Matt asked, shutting the door behind him and leaning his cane against the wall.

"Most iconic dress in a film," Foggy said, "Karen thinks it's the black Audrey Hepburn dress from 'Breakfast at Tiffany's', but I'm telling you it's Kiera Knightly's green dress in 'Atonement'."

"It's the black dress," Matt answered.

"Ha! Told you!" said Karen.

"How - what, Matt, that's not even fair. You don't even know what the green dress looks like. It's so hot, man."

"I've never seen it," Matt said, "But I think I remember the Audrey Hepburn one. Is that the one with the big hat she wears at the races?"

Karen laughed. "What? No, Matt, it's the little black dress with the pearls."

"Oh, Matty, that's 'My Fair Lady' you're thinking of, that's not even the right film," Foggy moaned.

"Oh," Matt said, "Well, I vote with Karen anyway. Do you two actually do any work before I get here?"

"This is critical work, Matt," Foggy said, "And you'd totally vote the green dress if you could see it. It's all long and flowing and then the library scene - oh man, I want to be James McAvoy fairly often because he is super good looking and just great, despite the fact he gets killed or seriously injured in like every film he's in, but that scene is just like, uh, so hot. Both literally because it's a hot night, and,"

"I'm sure it's too early in the morning for this," Matt said and gave Foggy a smile. "And my turn to ask something un-work related."

"Fire away," Foggy said, much too full of enthusiasm for this time of a morning.

Matt paused. He had to find out more about the man with the metal arm, however Google didn't really lend itself to a blind guy. "Do either of you remember hearing anything about a guy with a metal arm? I think it was a year or two back."

"Do you mean Iron-Man?" Foggy asked, "You know, guy with a metal suit? Tony Stark. Buckets of money."

"No," Matt said, "Foggy I know who Iron-Man is. I mean, he was a," Matt paused as he tried to find the right word. He didn't want to say 'terrorist', but he was sure that was the word the media had used at the time. "In DC. Was that it? All that stuff with SHIELD or whatever they were called?"

"Yes," Karen said, "Yes, Matt you're right. He was like, shooting Captain America and stuff. Hang on," Matt listened as Karen moved around the desk and sat down, then began typing. "Here we go, there's a picture of him here on a bridge with a machine gun. And another here,"

"What does he look like?" Matt asked.

"Dangerous?" Karen said, "The picture quality isn't great. Long hair, and a mask and goggles."

"Wait, scroll down," Foggy said, "There's another one. Wow, I could do a better job with the eyeliner than that guy. Matt, you could do a better job doing someone else's eyeliner. I mean, he's got it everywhere."

That didn't help. "But what does he look like? Build, features, come on, help me out here," Matt asked again, trying to keep his voice light.

"It's kinda hard," Foggy said, "Oh here's one of him punching Captain America. Umm, about the Captain's hight, which is like six-foot twenty or something, I don't know."

"He's fit," Karen said, "But slim. It looks like he's wearing a bullet-proof vest maybe? And military-style pants and boots. His left arm looks to be made out of metal, and not in the Iron-Man way. Like, his left arm is literally metal. He's got shoulder-length dark hair, but there doesn't seem to be any good pictures showing his face. It always seems to be masked, or he's wearing so much eyeliner, it's hard to tell."

"Wait," Foggy said, "Do you think he's friends with the masked weirdo who's been running around Hell's Kitchen? Because this metal-arm guy, well, I mean, he's a terrorist. He's dangerous. He's taking on Captain America, which also kind of means he's insane."

"Foggy," Karen laughed. Matt forced a smile for Karen, but knew that Foggy was going to have more questions for him later. He didn't like Foggy called this guy 'insane', though. Something about that just didn't seem fair. "Matt, why do you want to know?" Karen asked.

"Just," Matt shrugged, "Just a thought." He needed a better reason that that. "You know when you're trying to get to sleep and something comes into your head and you need to look it up? Well, I just need someone else to look it up."

"I never remember what I'm thinking about before I go to sleep," Foggy said, and shook his head. "I just shook my head, by the way, Matt."

Matt had to laugh. Foggy knew he could tell, but had struggled to break the habit of telling Matt the non-verbal communication of himself and others. "Has there been any word on him since?" Matt asked.

He listened as Karen typed. "Hold on, nope, 'page not found'." Matt waited as Karen clicked on another link. "Loading, and… 'this content has been removed'."

"Refresh the browser," Foggy said.

"I am," said Karen, bashing at the enter key. "Here's another one, loading, '401 page error'. What the hell? Why don't any of these links work?"

"Don't worry about it," Matt said, "Thanks for your help, Karen. At least I know now I wasn't making it up."

"No problem," Karen said, "But more importantly," she said, sitting back in her chair, ready to interrogate her employers, "How come you're both so familiar with 'My Fair Lady'?"

...

It wasn't until Karen had gone to buy lunch later in the day that Foggy approached Matt. "So," Foggy said, leaning against the door to Matt's office, his arms folded defensively, "Matthew Murdock shows up late to the office with questions about a man with a metal arm. Out with it Matt, what's going on?"

Matt adjusted his position in his seat. Foggy wasn't messing around, and Matt didn't want to lie. "I - I guess you'd say I ran into him last night."

"What, you were just going for an evening run?"

"Foggy,"

"Matt, he's dangerous."

"Yeah, well, I know that now,"

"What?" Foggy exclaimed.

"Wait, how do you know he's dangerous?"

Foggy entered Matt's office properly. "Appart from the fact he was beating up Captain America?"

Matt raised his eyebrows.

Foggy sighed, "Fine. We could see the pictures on Images this morning, but none of the links would open, which I thought was odd. So, I may have spent the rest of the morning making associated searches and going through pages and pages and pages of Google to find anything."

"What did you find?" Matt asked, genuinely intrigued.

"Wait, I go first," Foggy said, "Were you out Daredevilling last night?"

"It that a verb now?"

"Matt," Foggy warned.

"I was just - yes. He was lost and wandering. I thought he was just some homeless guy who needed help,"

"From the Daredevil?" Foggy asked, cutting Matt off.

"I wanted to help him."

"But?"

"He attacked me. I don't know what made him snap. But then he just - snapped back, I guess. He's hurt, Foggy. He needs help."

"Yeah, I know, Matty," Foggy said.

"Why? What did you find?"

"Annoyingly, not a lot. I'd say all of the text articles that mention him in Washington DC have been removed from the internet. I mean, I had to go to page six of Google just to find something that would work. Page six, Matt. Of Google. No one goes past page one, maybe page two at a stretch. Whoever is trying to keep this a secret is doing a really good job of it."

"So someone doesn't want him to be found?"

"I'd say someone doesn't want something to be found. But I did find a couple of things, though I don't know if they make much sense. There's a mention of a guy with a metal arm by some ex-CIA or something guy. Something about a mission in Georgia in the '60's, and this guy, or, well, some guy, with a metal arm was involved. He linked to the Soviet's. The ex-CIA guy said that he was code-named the Winter Soldier. So I tried Googling "Winter Soldier", and nothing. There is nothing. I mean, there is things, but it's all just military guys in white cameo gear. Nothing about this guy."

"Hmm," Matt said.

"But that's mad, right Matt?" Foggy asked, "It can't be the same guy you came across, can it? The same guy in DC? He'd have to be like, 70."

"Yeah," Matt said, and sat back in his chair.

"Well, that's all I got. But, well, there's nothing on the internet, Matt. And internet rule number one is that nothing is ever really removed from the internet."

"No, you're right," Matt said, "But thanks Foggy. Seriously."

"Yeah, well, you keep them streets safe. As soon as Karen gets back, I'm going for lunch. You want anything?"

"Whatever you're having," Matt said, "Just a sub or something. But really, Foggy, thanks."

"Yeah, well, it's not like we have any real work to do," Foggy said. Matt could feel that Foggy was suppressing a smile.

"Karen's coming," Matt said, hearing the door downstairs click open and Karen's footsteps through the hall.

"I'll get my wallet," Foggy said, and left Matt's office.

Matt put his hands behind his head and leant back. The Winter Soldier. Pages deleted from the Internet. Something was going on, and Matt wanted to know just what.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thank-you very much for the favourites, follows and comments. They're all very much appreciated.

* * *

 _7am. 7am. Beep. Beeeeep._

Matt rolled over and hit the snooze button on his alarm clock. He groaned into the pillow. The previous night he had stood on his rooftop in the cold, scanning Hell's Kitchen for the metal-armed stranger, but had not been able to sense him. Matt didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. He sighed and sat up. Perhaps the stranger would come back tonight. Maybe he would never come back.

Matt leant back against the pillow and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders. He considered turning the radio on to catch the end of the seven o'clock news, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate. Thoughts of the metal-armed raced around in Matt's mind, and he couldn't shake them. The guy had even appeared in Matt's dream, though it what capacity Matt could no longer recall.

 _Private number calling. Private number calling._

"Seriously?" Matt muttered and reached out for his phone. "Who calls at five past seven. Hello?" he asked, his voice still groggy from sleep.

" _Good morning,_ " a polite male voice said on the other end of the line, " _I hope I didn't wake you._ "

"No," Matt said, trying to sound a little more awake than he felt, "Sorry, who is this?"

" _A friend,_ " the man said, " _I'm sorry, there isn't an awful lot I can say over the phone. I am correct in assuming this is Matthew Murdock?"_

"Yeah," Matt said. The voice on the other end of the line sounded kind and unthreatening, and there was something about his voice that made Matt want to trust this guy, even though he couldn't pin-point why. But this call was far from a social one.

 _"Mr Murdock, son, I need to meet with you. This morning. It's regarding a case you've been looking into._ "

Matt thought for a moment. He didn't know that they were looking into any cases. "I'm sorry, I'm going to need more information."

The man on the phone swallowed. " _I've been told breakfast tacos are a thing, and they're supposed to be good at this place on 30 West 24th. I'll pay. I guess I'm the client after all. I'll order you a cab."_

"Ok," Matt said, intrigued. Since when did he receive phone calls to go for breakfast tacos? "I just - what's the case regarding?" he asked.

" _A missing person,"_ the man said. Through the phone, Matt could hear the man drumming his fingers. He was nervous, on edge. Something about this conversation was making the man uncomfortable. " _And I think you may have met him."_

"The Winter Soldier?" Matt asked, the words coming out before he could stop them.

There was a pause.

"How will I know you?" Matt asked.

" _A cab will be there at eight._ " The man hung up.

Matt sat in bed for a minute, trying to make sense of what had happened. He got up, pulled on a sweatshirt and pants and went to the loo. So this was regarding the Winter Soldier? Possibly. But who knew they were looking into that, other than himself and Foggy? Unless Foggy had told Karen, but that was too unlikely. Matt went and sat down on his bed. "Call Foggy," he said to Siri.

" _Calling Foggy,_ " Siri replied.

The phone rang, and after five rings a very sleepy Foggy answered. _"Nelson and Murdock Attorneys of something. Hello?"_

"It's Matt, Foggy."

 _"Oh, hiya Matty. You ok? What time even is it?"_

"I'm fine, so don't panic," Matt said, "But how would I know what the time is? It's after seven, but I can't give you anything more specific. Look, I think I'm going to be a little bit late to the office this morning."

 _"You're always late, Matt,"_ Foggy mumbled. Through the phone, Matt could just hear Foggy push his hair back and rub his eyes.

"True," Matt replied.

 _"Why are you calling me, though? You never call. You just show up late. Has something happened? Are you hurt? Do I need to call births, deaths and marriages? Wait, sorry, wrong one. Police, fire or ambulance?"_

Matt laughed. "No, Foggy, I'm fine, really. It's just - I got a phone call just now. A, well, I think he's a prospective client. He wants to meet for breakfast."

 _"Do you want me to come?"_ Foggy asked. His voice sounded stronger, and Matt guessed he was now sitting up. _"Where is it? What's the case about? Do you think he'll actually be some bad guy? Maybe I should come."_

"No, don't come, I'll be fine," Matt said. "Something about him - he seemed worried."

 _"Well, he is calling a law firm first thing in the morning."_

"Yeah, I suppose," Matt said.

 _"So you don't want me to come?"_ Foggy asked.

"No," Matt said, "I'll be fine."

 _"Well if I don't hear from you by ten, I'm calling the police."_

"Please don't."

 _"Then keep me updated, Matty. I worry."_

"Alright, mom," Matt teased.

 _"Right,"_ Foggy said, _"Well, I'll see you later, Matt. I'm gunna go make me some bacon and eggs, now that I'm awake."_

"Ok," Matt said, "Bye."


	4. Chapter 4

Just as the man on the phone had said, a cab arrived outside Matt's building at exactly eight o'clock. Matt was waiting out front, his coat collar popped up to protect him from the wind. The driver came and opened the door for him. The cab smelt as though it had been recently cleaned. The seats were covered with relatively new covers, and the cabbie himself smelt clean and freshly shaven. He was someone who must take great pride in his car and his profession, Matt thought.

"All good to go?" the driver asked, climbing into the front seat.

"Yeah," Matt said.

"You don't mind if I have my tunes playing?"

"No, that's fine."

"Ok, off we go then," the driver said. He turned on the indicator, and a moment later pulled out into the street. Matt could hear the meter ticking over. Occasionally the driver would sing along with the Marvin Gaye tracks he had playing, but they didn't chat. The ride didn't take too long, and Matt could tell that the driver was a good one; fast and direct.

"Watch your step now," the driver said as he opened the door for Matt to climb out.

"Thank-you," Matt said.

"Mr Murdock?" a man said. Matt recognised his voice as the man from the phone call, and Matt held out his hand, which the man shook. "Steve Rogers." A nervous heartbeat betrayed his calm voice.

"Right," Matt said, "Hi."

"Everything all good?" the driver asked.

"I'll call you when we're done," Rogers said.

"Whatever," the driver replied. He leaned in close to Rogers with words meant only for him, but Matt heard all the same, "Next time, she drives, I have coffee."

"I'll let her drive just as soon as you can convince her that speed limits are not targets to be achieved."

"Well I'm going to go use your Amex at Blue Dog and eat all the breakfast foods."

"Just be ready when I call," Rogers called as the driver climbed back into the car. "Ok, you good to move, son?" he asked Matt.

"Just let me just get this straight," Matt said, trying to hide the smile creeping onto his lips. "You're Steve Rogers as in - Captain America, Steve Rogers?" Foggy would be so jealous.

"Hence the reason for a bit of secrecy, son," Rogers said, and took Matt's arm, leading him into the restaurant. It was busy for a Thursday morning, but Matt guessed it was a popular place. Matt listened. He couldn't hear any radio signals outside of the ordinary, so he took it to mean that the place was not bugged. The Captain had chosen neutral territory. "Here, take a seat."

"How did you know where I lived?" Matt asked. He felt around the table, leant his cane against the table and sat down, and listened as the Captain sat down opposite him.

"You're name is on the lease for your apartment, Mr Murdock," Rogers said, and fiddled with the menu.

"And my phone number?"

"It's on the internet. Under the contact details for Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law," Rogers said. "My turn for to ask; why is a lawyer from Hell's Kitchen asking questions about a guy with a metal arm?

"Why is Captain America?" Matt furrowed his brow. Rogers didn't answer straight away. He had a feeling there was a lot the Captain wasn't telling him. "I have a lot of questions," Matt said.

"Good, because I thought you might," Rogers said, "And so do I. Firstly, what do you want to eat?"

The change in subject matter almost caught Matt of guard. "So long as it's hot, tasty, and you're paying, I'm not fussed," Matt replied.

"Alright," Rogers said and signalled for service. While the Captain told the waiter which items they'd be ordering, Matt took the chance to figure out who else in the room was working with Rogers and the driver. Matt had a feeling she'd be alone, and at least knowing it was a girl helped. He scanned the room. Man with high cholesterol. Pregnant lady with partner. Old couple with grandchild. Gay couple. Baker lady. Waiter. Hungover man. Lady drinking coffee.

Matt held his attention on the lady. Her heart beat was calm and even. Almost unnaturally so. She was fit and athletic and wearing a foreign perfume that Matt didn't recognise.

"So," Rogers said, breaking Matt's focus on the woman.

"I go first?" Matt asked.

Rogers sighed. "Why not?"

Matt thought for a moment. He didn't have an opening question planned. "Who is the guy with the metal arm?"

Rogers clasped and unclasped his hands nervously. "His name is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, and he's my best friend. Finding Sergeant Barnes and bringing him in safely is my top priority." Matt was mildly surprised that the Captain actually knew the answer to the question, and even more so that that was it. Everything about the Captain's body language and rhythms told Matt he wasn't lying, and he genuinely wanted to safely find this man. Matt wasn't even sure if Rogers knew how to lie. "Why are you asking questions about him?" Rogers asked.

"How do you know that I am?" Matt asked.

"I have people keeping an eye on Google, and other search engines. We have certain search key words and phrases flagged. Ask the too many questions, and we start to wonder why."

"We searched at the office," Matt said, "And you didn't contact the others. How did you know it was me asking?"

"I had background checks run on the three of you," Rogers said. "Yourself, Mr Nelson and Ms Page all checked out. Unsurprisingly, Mr Murdock, everyone dismissed you at once. But I know folks more unlikely than you who have been overlooked. Why would a blind guy be asking questions about the Winter Soldier? Surely it was just a coincidence, your little legal firm looking into my missing person. But I've seen stranger things than a blind guy protecting his city, son."

"What are you talking about?" Matt asked, knowing exactly what Rogers was referring to. He just didn't know how Rogers knew.

"Trust me, Mr Murdock, I only want to help, and I believe you do too."

"Is this man a threat to my city?"

"I don't know," Rogers answered.

"He's dangerous."

"You engaged with him?"

Matt explained his encounter with the stranger. "I only wanted to help, but something inside of him snapped, and he just,"

"I know," the Captain said, and nodded sadly, "I know."

"What's wrong with him?" Matt asked.

Rogers looked around, "I'm sorry Mr Murdock, I'd prefer not to answer that in public."

"How do you know about me? What I can - do?"

"I work with some extremely clever people. Unbelievably clever, one in particular. I don't actually know how to describe him. I believe it's a Sherlock Holmes quote, 'when you eliminate all the options, whatever you are left with must be the truth, however unlikely'. Something like that, I don't know. You, Mr Murdock, added up to be my unlikely truth."

"But how," Matt began, when the food arrived. It smelt fantastic, and Matt realised that he was quite hungry. They ate in silence for a couple of minutes, Matt trying to make as little mess as possible, which isn't easy being blind and trying to eat tacos. But the food was good, and Matt understood why this place had been recommended.

"Who else knows?" Matt asked, wiping his fingers on the napkin.

"About you or Bucky?" Rogers asked.

"Who the hell is Bucky?" Matt asked, trying to get some corn out of his teeth with his tongue, wondering why Rogers was adding other people into this.

Rogers stiffened, and tightened his jaw. "It's his - nickname. Barnes. He's - Bucky to me."

"Oh," Matt said, "Like Foggy, I guess."

"Mm," said Rogers, "But, well, I think the answer to your question is that four know about him, and three about you, not including me."

"But that does include taxi driver and the lady over there with the coffee and the hot cakes?"

"Mr Murdock, know that I would trust those people with my life."

"Yeah, well right now you're trusting them with mine."

"And I'm trusting you with Bucky," Rogers said.

Matt stared in Rogers's direction. Steve really cared about Bucky, and Matt could tell it was hard for the Captain to be letting Matt in on this. "So what's the deal with him? Why's he in Hell's Kitchen?"

"I honestly don't know," Rogers said, "Did you speak to him?"

"Yes, he kept saying that he 'didn't know'. That nothing was how he remembered it."

"That makes sense. He worked down at the docks for a while, back in our day. We have to find him."

"We?"

"Mr Murdock, we need to bring him safety home. I think you understand that."

"Yeah," Matt said. "But out of the whole world, you're asking me to help? You're an Avenger. You could call anyone and,"

"And I've called you. You're right, Murdock. I'm an Avenger. And I want to avenge Bucky and everything they did to him, but I can't," Rogers was getting emotional, and struggling to contain it. Whatever had happened, he at least in part blamed himself. "All I can do is try to bring him back. And everything we've tried over the past year and a bit has led to nothing but dead ends."

"So you need a fresh set of eyes?"

"A new perspective," Rogers said and took a deep breath to compose himself, "Someone else to keep an eye out. Someone we can trust. Because I think he's gotten sloppy. He's gotten slow. If you caught up with him then others with less honourable intentions might be able to do the same."

"What dishonourable intentions?" Matt asked.

"Mr Murdock, I will get you more information, but right now, I just need to know that you're in."

"I need a guarantee that no one else finds out about me," Matt said.

"You have my word," the Captain said. He was so damn sincere, it almost hurt.

"What do you need me to do?" Matt asked.

"For now," Steve said, "Sit tight. But if you hear or see anything of interest, let us know."

"And how will I do that? Light up the Bat-signal?"

"Are you in?"

"Do I still have a choice?"

Rogers gave a slight shrug. "You could still walk away if you wanted, I suppose. But you won't. You care too much," he stood up. "I think we're done here. I'll call you that cab."


	5. Chapter 5

Matt sat at his desk, going through reports from the past year and a bit that concerned a man who even vaguely fitted the description of James Barnes. Some were clearly not him; the man mentioned was black or hispanic, or too old or too young, or later apprehended, or in California or Oregon or Wisconsin.

Barnes was careful and he was good, but he was becoming careless and sloppy. He was getting tired. There were some quite recent sightings of a man fitting his description around New York. The night Fisk had blown up half of Hell's Kitchen, someone had reported seeing a man "behaving suspiciously" in Midtown who matched Barnes's description. There was another sighting the night Fisk had been apprehended of a "suspicious looking homeless man" in East Village. It was interesting, Matt thought, that people only seemed to report something unusual when there was something bigger at play. How many people had walked past Barnes in the street without a second thought?

"Matt?" Karen tapped at his door. Matt had been so absorbed in the reports that he hadn't heard another woman enter their office. "A lady named Tanya Marinko from NYPD is here to see you."

"NYPD?" Matt asked. He could hear the other woman's heart beat. It was perfectly calm. Too perfect.

"She said it was about a missing person's case you were consulting with?"

"Oh yes," Matt said, "Of course. Thank-you, Karen. Send her in, please."

"Would you like me to get Foggy, too?"

"No, it's alright. I'll let you know if I need anything. Thanks."

"No problem," Karen said. "Mr Murdoch will see you now," Matt heard Karen say.

"Thank-you," said the lady.

Matt stood up as she entered. "Matthew Murdock, nice to meet you."

"Tanya Marinko," the lady replied and shut the door behind her, "And the pleasure is all mine." Matt reached out, and they shook hands. Matt noted that her handshake was perfect, just like her heartbeat. Her hands were warm, but not sweaty or clammy. Her voice sounded like syrup. Matt knew she'd had porridge with fruit, and a cup of tea for breakfast. He could smell the hairspray keeping her hair in place, and clothes were neat and clean and normal. Her perfume was exotic and expensive, likely the one luxury that she afforded herself, yet it was familiar. Too familiar.

"Ms Marinko," Matt said, sitting back down. He listened as she put down her bag and sat also, "They can't hear us through that wall, and I am 100% certain that my room is not bugged. Who are you really?"

"Gee, Matt, you really are as good as Cap said," Ms Marino said, sitting quite casually in the chair. Her voice made Matt feel all hot. "Any guesses?"

"This isn't a game."

"One guess."

She called him 'Cap', the perfume was too familiar, "Black Widow?"

"You should be a detective, Matthew Murdock," she said.

"I don't think I'd be that good. I can't see."

"Oh, I think you'd be fantastic."

Matt felt hot under the collar. Was she flirting? He rubbed his neck. "Natasha Romanov, I believe?"

"Sure, why not?"

"So why the disguise?"

"It's hardly a disguise. It's a blouse and skirt. Would you prefer me in something a little more comfortable?"

Matt crossed his legs. "Why are you here, Ms Romanov?" he asked.

"Same reason you're reading those reports, Mr Murdock," she said. Matt wondered how she could read the braille pages on his desk, or whether she had already known that he'd accessed them via the database. He felt a little intimated, almost outmatched. She was good. He liked that.

"Are the Avengers watching me?" Matt asked, trying to keep his cool.

"You're looking into someone who means a lot to us."

"Why do you care about the Winter Soldier?" Matt asked.

Natasha exhaled, pulled out the folder she had in her bag, and placed it on the desk. "Because he was hurt. And he was turned into something that he doesn't understand. What they did to him, Matt…" Natasha stopped and swallowed. That action and the slight increase in her heart rate told Matt that she cared about what happened to this guy.

"What's in the file?" Matt asked, trying to stay professional.

"It's everything SHIELD had on the Sargent James Buchanan Barnes, and the Winter Soldier. Seventy years worth of intelligence. But it's not exactly a bedtime story."

"I've seen some pretty horrible things, Ms Romanov," Matt said.

"I know," Natasha said, "Me too. But this, this is going to rank pretty high up whatever it is you've seen."

"Why are you giving it to me?" Matt asked, reaching out and pulling the folder a little bit closer.

"Steve trusts you and said we'd sent intel, so here I am. Bringing it in person was the safest way to ensure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. And we need help. Our current channels, our current methods, they're not working. You bring something new to the table."

"How much do the Avengers know about me?" Matt asked.

"Enough to know that if you ever need a job, all you have to do is call."

"Call?" Matt asked.

"Give me your phone," Natasha said, and held out her hand.

Matt took his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it to her. He didn't know why he was trusting her. She was a trained Soviet assassin, for goodness sake. She could control her heartbeat, which made it harder for Matt to get a proper read on her. But she was a friend of Captain America, and she genuinely wanted to help Barnes. "Just so you know, because I can't see technology - screens mess with my senses - whatever name you put as your first name is what my phone calls out when you ring. If you ring, I mean."

"So what would you like me to put?" Natasha asked.

"What were you going to put?" Matt asked.

"Anything wrong with 'Natasha Romanov'?" she asked.

"How would I explain that to Karen and Foggy?"

"Do they often go through your contacts list?"

"No."

"Well?"

Matt couldn't help it as he smiled. "I assume you already have my number," he said.

"Yes."

"Yes, of course, Captain America gave Black Widow my number."

"Better get used to it, Daredevil."

Matt's eyes widened, and he felt hot in the cheeks.

"Relax," Natasha said. "The only ones who know are myself, Cap, Sam, and Vision."

"Vision?"

"He's, ah, hard to explain. But he can wield Mjölnir, for what it's worth."

"Well that just fills me with confidence."

Natasha chuckled. "Well, I think I better be getting on," she said, and stood up. "But I no doubt I'll be seeing you around."

"Umm, right, of course," Matt said, and stood up. He felt his away around the desk and opened the door for her. "Thank-you for dropping by, I guess."

"Call me if you need anything," her shoulders straightening, her voice professional.

Matt noticed a change in her demeanour. Now that Karen and Foggy were listening, Natasha was putting on the act. "Will do. Thank-you again," Matt said.

"No problem," Natasha said, "Bye."

Matt listened as she let herself out of the office. The door clicked shut behind her.

"Matty, did you get her number?" Foggy asked, hurrying out of his office, the door to which was wide open. "She is hot as."

"She is really good looking, Matt," Karen said. "Are you alright, Matt? You're all pink in the cheeks."

"I'm fine," Matt said, trying not to blush. "It's just hot in my office with two people and the door closed."

"You sure you didn't want me to join?" Foggy asked, giving Matt a look that told him he would have questions afterwards. "Because like, woah, Matt. She's super fit and looks amazing, and she's NYPD? We should move to NYPD if they all look like that. Do they need lawyers? Why do they need lawyers?"

"Settle down, Foggy," Matt smiled.

"Nuh-uh Matty. You've been with some pretty hot girls, but I think she's possibly number one."

"Well," Matt said, quite aware of how attractive Natasha was, and, now that she was gone, feeling less intimidated, "I think she knows her stuff. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some actual work to do."


	6. Chapter 6

After Natasha left, Matt tried reading the report in his office. He made it through the first page or so of Barnes's military service, up to the point the 107th Infantry was surrounded, captured and taken as prisoners to a nearby Hydra facility. Hydra noticed that Barnes was strong, that he would resist, and that the men all seemed to respect and even look up to him. Hydra deemed it safest to remove Barnes from the rest of the men. It was unclear exactly what happened to him, but he was found some days later alone in a cell, strapped to a bed, by Captain America. Barnes was weak and confused, and it was assumed that Hydra had -

Matt closed the file. Natasha was right. The file was right. Somehow, Matt was able to sense everything unnatural that had ever been done to Barnes. He could see that cold, dark room in the Hydra facility, deep in Nazi territory. That was why Barnes had smelt so different. Because he was.

"I - I've got some reading to do," Matt said, putting the folder in his bag, "It's easier to do it at home," he felt his way out of his office.

"Will you be back this afternoon?" Karen asked.

"I doubt it," Matt said. "I'll see you later."

"Are you feeling ok, Matt? You look kind of pale."

"I'm fine," Matt said.

"Is everything alright?" Foggy asked, appearing from his office. "Can I have a look? At the reading, I mean. Not Matt's paleness. You do look a little off colour, man."

"I'm fine," Matt repeated. "And I guess you could look at the files, but you won't get much out of them."

"Why not?" Foggy asked.

Can you read braille?" Matt asked, and gave Foggy half a smile.

"I'll come round later," Foggy said, "Bring some food and some beers."

"I'll see you then," Matt said.

Matt spent the afternoon reading through the files. It wasn't pretty and it wasn't fun, but he couldn't stop. There was an original report written by Steve Rogers himself, explaining what had happened when Barnes had fallen from the train. Then there were the SHIELD reports detailing intelligence gathered throughout the Cold War, followed by the latest reports, including one by Natasha and another by Steve, recalling the events in Washington DC last year.

There were also a number of scientific reports from SHIELD scientists speculating who or what the Winter Solider was. Finally, there was one page from a Hydra file that SHIELD. How it had come into SHIELD possession was not stated here. The document had been translated from German, and continued on from the point where Captain Roger's account of Barnes falling from the train had left off. How they had found Barnes lying more than half dead at the bottom of the ravine. How they had… Matt found himself clenching his fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. How could they do this for someone? And to keep doing it to him for seventy years. Matt punched the table. It was just so unfair.

He lent back in his chair, feeling angry and alone, and his phone dug into his hip. Matt pulled it out of his pocket. What the hell, he thought. "Call Natasha."

" _Calling Natasha_ ," his phone replied.

Matt waited. He drummed his fingers on the table.

 _"Hello?"_

"Hi, uh, Natasha?"

There was noise in the background. " _Matt? Hi, umm, just a minute,"_ Matt waited. The background noise on Natasha's end disappeared. " _You read it?_ "

"I," Matt wasn't sure where to start, "What the hell is this, Natasha?" he asked, emotions welling. "What the hell? Why, how…?"

 _"We've been asking ourselves the same questions, Matt,"_ Natasha said calmly.

"But, how could they? How could anyone?"

 _"Matt,"_

"What can we do? Huh? What do we do?"

 _"There's no one to punch, if that's what you're asking,_ " Natasha said, _"Most of the key players have been dead for years. We've been cleaning up what we hope is the last of Hydra for the past year or so."_

"So what do I do?" Matt asked, angry at Hydra, at history, at Natasha for dumping this on him. Matt wished he'd never come across Barnes in the alleyway. He just didn't want to know. "I've got enough shit to deal with."

" _I know,"_ Natasha said, _"Trust me, Matt, I know. So let's make this one not shit, ok? I know about mistakes. Regrets. Decisions we made we'd do anything now to change,"_ she paused. Matt waited. He was too mad to say anything constructive. _"So let's win this round. We can't change the past. And there's nothing we can do about the bastards who did this to Bucky. But we can find him. And we can save him. And that's one point to us."_

Matt swallowed and thought about what Natasha was saying. "But what if he's too far gone? What if there is no going back?"

" _I don't believe anyone is ever that far gone,"_ Natasha said. Matt could hear her pacing. " _I can't."_

"Why do you care so much about him? It says here he shot you. He would have killed you, Natasha."

 _"And at one time, I would have killed him too, were our situations reversed. I care about Steve. I know how much this means to him, Matt. That - that I don't think we can understand. How much Bucky means to him."_

"No," Matt said, "I think I get that one."

 _"So,"_ Natasha said, " _Are you in?"_

"I thought I already was. Isn't that why you gave me all this?"

 _"I guess,_ " she replied, _"But you can still back out, if you really want."_

"Like I could back out now," Matt said.

" _Good._ "

"But what do I do, Natasha?"

 _"Keep an eye out. Two, even, whenever you can spare them. We don't think he'll leave the greater New York area."_

"Because that narrows it down."

 _"Loving the sarcasm, Murdock,"_ Natasha said, _"Have you got a better idea? Know how else we can find him?"_

Matt didn't have a better idea. They were looking for a ghost in New York. How the hell do you track down a ghost?

 _Knock-knock, knock._ "Matty! I've got food! And beer!"

 _"Company?"_ Natasha asked.

"It's just Foggy. Sorry," Matt said, "Coming!" he called.

 _"Matt, if you find anything, or hear anything, or just sense anything out of the ordinary. It doesn't matter. We'll take any lead. Just call me. And try not to do anything stupid."_

"Yeah. Talk later."

"Matty! The dinner is getting cold, and the beer is getting warm!"

 _"Bye, Matt."_

"Bye," Matt said, and hung up. He pushed himself out of the chair and went and unlocked the door for Foggy.

"Proper New York pizzas," Foggy said, laying the pizzas on the table, and popping open a bottle of beer. "What you been up to, Matt?"

"Reading," Matt said.

"Who were you on the phone to?"

"How did you know I was on the phone?"

"Well, it's that or you were talking to yourself. Or you have someone hiding in the house here. Oh man, don't tell me you have someone here."

"No, no, I was on the phone," Matt laughed. It was the first time he had smiled all afternoon.

"What, to the hot NYPD girl?" Foggy teased.

Matt's face fell.

"It was the hot NYPD girl?" Foggy asked.

"I, she,"

"You really did get her number? Were you talking business or - other?"

"Foggy,"

Foggy saw the braille sheets still laid out on Matt's coffee table. "Is this to do with yesterday's lunch? And the Googling?"

Matt sighed. "Enough people have been hurt."

"Matt, I know too much now. Who was she, Matty?"

"I think you better sit down," Matt said. He had a feeling this case wasn't going to go away quickly.

Foggy took a sip of his drink and sat down. "Fire away, Matty. We got all night."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** From here on in there are Ant-Man SPOILERS. Third-act and end-credit type things, so if you haven't seen the film, please do. It's excellent. I have changed the tags too. So please be aware, incase you haven't seen Ant-Man yet!

Also, thank-you so much to everyone for reading, as well as the favourites, follows, and comments. There's still plenty to come, so stay tuned :)

* * *

Every day for the next week and a half, Matt would call Natasha. It was often late when he would call, not until after he'd stood up on the roof at night, listening for anyone that remotely resembled the sounds of Bucky Barnes. But there had been nothing. Every night, nothing. Matt tried moving across the rooftops, scouting Hell's Kitchen, but still there was nothing. Matt knew he wouldn't miss Barnes, or mistake him for someone else. Barnes was unique. And he was gone.

Every second day Matt had been receiving a parcel in the mail containing another SHIELD file written in braille. He had been sent files on Hydra, Arnim Zola, Peggy Carter, Howard Stark, and the founding of SHIELD out of the SSR. It was the most riveting information Matt had read in years. If it wasn't real, Matt thought, these people and these events would make one hell of a story. He told this to Natasha, and they would discuss in detail times and events long before they were ever though of.

As the days had past, Matt had found himself looking forward to his nightly phone call with Natasha all the more. They would speak business to begin with, before chatting about their day, their week, their lives. Matt told Natasha everything, about Foggy and Karen and Father Lantom and his parents, about the accident, about Fisk, about being the Daredevil. Natasha spoke about Clint Barton and Steve Rogers and Bruce Banner, about the Avengers, about SHIELD, about being the Black Widow.

Wednesday night was pouring with rain, with a storm due to pass through during the night. There was no point trying to look for Barnes tonight, Matt knew. He would only get wet and cold. Matt called Natasha early.

 _"_ _Everything alright?"_ she answered.

"Can you come round?" Matt asked, standing by the window, listening to the droplets of rain run down the glass. It was soothing, but Matt would rather not be alone.

 _"_ _What, now?"_

"Can you?"

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Natasha answered. " _Are you making dinner? Pasta and tinned sauce is fine. So long as it's hot."_

"I can do better than that," Matt said, "I'll have something ready when you arrive. How long will that be?"

 _"_ _About an hour,_ " she said. " _And you're sure everything's ok?"_

"Yeah, fine," Matt said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "I mean, I just finished reading the Arnim Zola file, and,"

 _"_ _Enough said,"_ Natasha said, _"I'm on my way."_

"Thanks, drive safe," Matt said.

 _"_ _See you soon,"_

"Yeah, bye," But she had already hung up. He had hated Zola from the first page of the file, and his hatred of the man had only grown as he had continued reading. How could someone do that? How could he betray them all after they'd given him a second chance? And Zola had been directly involved in torturing Barnes and turning him into the Winter Soldier. Matt was glad Zola was dead, because he would have readily torn the man limb from limb should it have been otherwise.

Matt stood up and walked over to the kitchen, when it occurred to him that he hadn't given Natasha his address, before he remembered that she'd already know. Now he needed to make something to impress her, but not show off. So long as it was better than pasta and tinned sauce. Matt opened the cupboard and felt around for inspiration.

Natasha arrived just under an hour later. Matt heard her calm heart beat approaching, and was ready to open the door when she arrived.

"Doesn't smell all bad," she said, and put down her bag.

"Do you mind if we wait?" Matt asked and closed the door. He could smell rain on Natasha's jacket and in her hair. She was wearing a different perfume. It smelt very floral, like cherry blossom and roses. It was sweet, but refined. Matt liked it.

"Wait for what?" Natasha asked, her voice seductive as she shrugged off her jacket. Natasha put her hand on Matt's hip and began to lift up his top.

"Ok, good," he exhaled, and kissed her. "We should… really…" he had to let go of her to get his shirt off, and take off his glasses before they got broken. They recommenced kissing, and Matt reached down and ran his hands up Natasha's back, lifting up her top. His fingers run lightly over the bullet scar where she had been shot by the Winter Solider.

"What… happened there?" Natasha asked, her hand running over the scar on Matt's shoulder blade.

"Nobu…" Matt breathed between kisses.

"Bedroom that way?" Natasha asked, fiddling with Matt's belt.

"I don't know what way you just implied, but sure," Matt said, unclipping her bra, never wanting to let her go. A trail of clothing marked the path from the front door to Matt's bed.

Matt didn't know how much time had passed afterwards, but the dinner was most likely cold. His stomach rumbled. "Hungry?" he asked Natasha. During it all, he had heard her heart rate change, and resemble something close to normal. Now, however, it was once more perfectly calm. Surprisingly, Matt thought, he felt calm too.

"You seem to know what you're doing for a blind guy," Natasha said.

"Are you talking about dinner or …"

Natasha rolled over and wrapped her arm across Matt's chest and kissed him on the shoulder. "In some other universe, Murdock, we all might be good."

Matt didn't feel like getting philosophical. He was hungry and had just had a very good time. Let matters of good and evil rest. He kissed her hair. "Let's refuel," Matt's sitting up, and pulling Natasha up with him.

She looped her arms around his chest. "That implies another round."

"What? Not up to it?" Matt teased.

"Depends on the food."

Five minutes later, both dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, Matt and Natasha sat at Matt's dining table eating the re-heated Thai beef curry with noodles Matt had made earlier.

"Any good?" Matt asked. Natasha was eating heartily, so Matt knew she was enjoying it.

"Noodles, not rice?"

"Have you ever tried eating rice with your eyes shut?"

"Fair point," Natasha said.

Matt ate another fork full and listened as Natasha's fork scraped her bowl.

"How do you cook so well?" she asked.

"Cooking is highly sensory," Matt said, "Sensory and scientific. So long as the meat is fully defrosted, most meats can be cooked using a timer. Combine that with smells, and the sound of the sauce boiling or the steak sizzling in the pan, and, well, any good cook knows you have to continually taste your foods. Really, it's easy and I quite enjoy it. It's much easier than cleaning. But people tend to trust a blind lawyer more than a blind chef."

"Well, I'd happily eat at Restaurant Matthew Murdock again."

"That is a terrible restaurant name," Matt laughed.

"Well," Natasha said, "I hear they do a good Thai curry. One more question, how do you cut things up?"

"I use a happy chopper, or buy the pre-cut stuff."

"Huh," Natasha said, "Seems logical enough when you think about it."

They finished their meals in companionable silence. "You," Matt chose his words carefully, "Acquiesced very quickly to coming here tonight."

"I'll have to leave early. We got a case abroad. Early flight."

"Where about?" Matt asked, noting that her response didn't really answer his question.

"Classified."

"Seriously?"

"Sorry, Matt. I'll tell you when I get back, if I can."

"Is that all?" Matt asked. He couldn't help but feel Natasha was holding something back.

She sighed and lent back in the chair. "There is an accord which is likely to be agreed to, or signed off on. Whatever the correct legal term is. It will likely happen in the next few days. Steve doesn't like it. It could cause us - issues. Steve and Clint and I - it doesn't affect us as much, but people like Wanda, and Bucky, and," she paused, "And you, Matt. It could be a problem."

"What it is?" Matt asked. This was the real reason why Natasha has come, Matt could hear it in her voice. He hadn't heard anything about any new accords that could affect him. And by him, he felt she meant him as Daredevil, not him as Matt.

Natasha shook her head. "Look, it's possible that the whole thing could still be thrown out or altered or forgotten. Legal matters in this country are complicated and weird. It - it might be a non-issue. I don't really understand it, but it's got Steve real worried and quite worked up, and that doesn't fill me with confidence."

"What, Natasha,"

"I'll call Maria, and,"

"Maria?" Matt asked, cutting Natasha off.

"Maria Hill," Natasha said, "I guess you'd call her our director of operations. She makes things happen. She quite literally runs the place. About a month ago, Hill took two days off, and went down to Orlando for an extended weekend. When she returned, the facility was actually on fire."

"What?" Matt laughed.

"It wasn't a big fire," Natasha said, "Just a bit of one. Hill just swore, and then proceeded to fix the whole mess up. She's the one behind you receiving those reports in braille, Matt. I trust her. I'll call her now, and have her courier you the details on the accord tomorrow. I can't tell you much more because I don't really understand it."

That was true. "Ok," Matt said. "I'll clear up. You call Maria."

"Ok," Natasha said. "Oh, and Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Can I put her number in your phone? For while I'm away. Emergencies."

"Sure," Matt said, "I think it's on my beside table on the charge."

"No," Natasha said, "It's there on the coffee table."

"Oh," Matt said, "I must have left it there earlier." His mind was too preoccupied thinking about the accord to listen to Natasha's brief conversation with Maria Hill. Who would approve something that could put them at risk? At risk of what? And who was behind it? Who was pushing it?

"You ready for that second round?" Natasha asked. Matt hadn't heard her come up behind him, but now she stood with her warm hands up his hoodie.

"Yeah," Matt said and smiled, turning around. Dishes and legal business could wait.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh my gosh," Foggy announced as Matt entered the office the next morning, "Matt had sex last night! I repeat everyone,"

"Foggy!" Karen gasped, half in horror, half laughing.

"Foggy, you, Karen and I are the only people here," Matt laughed, shutting the door behind him.

"Damn, Matt! It must have been good, because you are glowing, buddy."

"Settle down," Matt chuckled, blushing slightly. But Foggy wasn't wrong, Matt did feel good.

"Oh man," Foggy said, "It was so good, you're not even denying it? Who Matt?"

"How do you know?" Karen asked.

"Observe the subject," Foggy said. Matt couldn't hide his grin. "To begin with, he's made it to the office by five past nine, which by Matthew Murdock standards is like, two hours early. Second, he looks so annoyingly happy and walked in here grinning. C, or, three: he's walking with a swagger. Four, check out that sex hair. Sure, he combed it, but again, by Matthew Murdock standards, that is all over the place. All observations point to only one possible conclusion: Matthew Murdock got laid."

"What can I say?" Matt said, playing along, "Guilty as charged."

"Aw man," Foggy said, "Matty, tell me everything."

"You guys are gross," Karen said.

"Do I know her? Have we met?"

"Can I at least put down my things?" Matt asked.

"Have I met her?" Foggy asked, not giving up.

"Matt, another parcel came for you," Karen said, trying to ignore the boys. "I put it on your chair, so don't sit on it and freak out or anything. And I'm going out to get coffee, so please be finished with this conversation before I get back."

"You got it," Foggy said.

"Thanks, Karen," Matt said.

Foggy followed Matt into his office, and closed the door. "Who was it Matt?"

"Really, Foggy?" Matt forced a laugh as he leant his cane against the wall and put down his bag. He felt around the desk to his chair and picked up the envelope.

"Is whoever it is the one sending you the envelopes? Is it like - porno braille?"

"What?" Matt asked, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the file. He ran his fingers over the title and the smile dropped from his face. He hadn't expected it to arrive here so quickly.

"Come on, Matt. All this Captain America stuff would be one hell of a cover," Foggy said quietly, glancing over his shoulder to check that Karen had left.

"What time did this get here?" Matt asked.

"I don't know," Foggy said, "Just after I arrived. The courier guy dropped it off."

The parcels from Natasha always arrived in the office before Matt did, and this one had been even quicker than normal. "Is it always the same courier?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, fit-as youngish black dude with short hair and a bit of a beard. He seems pretty cool. He wears a company jacket. New York Hawks. Picture of a red bird next to the logo."

Matt spat as he laughed. "Seriously, Foggy? After everything I told you last week? And they choose the name New York Hawks?"

"What?" Foggy asked. "Hawks are pretty cool birds, Matt. They're fast and, I don't know, they're just awesome birds. And red it a fast colour? And Hell's Kitchen is part of New York, so…?"

"It's Sam Wilson. He's code name is Falcon. He's the courier."

"Who's Sam Wilson?" Foggy asked, before it clicked. "Oh. Oooh. Oh, so packages and the sex - wait. I didn't think you were gay. Or bi. It's cool if you are, but,"

"For god's sake!" Matt laughed. "Natasha, Foggy. I was with Natasha."

"Woh," Foggy said, his eyes going wide, "As in, Natasha Romanov? Black Widow? You did it with an assassin? She's an assassin, Matt. That is so hot. She is so hot, Matt. How did you talk her into that? Oh man, it's the blind thing, isn't it?"

"It's not the blind thing," Matt said. "I've been talking to her. On the phone. And last night she came round."

"Is she still there?"

"What, no," Matt said. He could still feel Natasha's body up against his. The feint smell of her floral perfume. Her fingers on his chest. _"Sorry, Matty, but I gotta go. Plane ain't gunna wait."_ "No," Matt said. "She had to go."

"So what's in today's parcel?" Foggy asked.

"It's the outline of an accord," Matt said.

"Is there a problem?" Foggy asked. He didn't need super powers to assume that if the Avengers were sending Matt legal articles, something was up.

"I don't know," Matt said. "There might be, but it might be nothing."

"You don't believe that."

Matt shook his head. "I'll tell you later."

"Yeah," Foggy said, "I'll leave you to it. But damn, Natasha Romanov, Matty."

Matt smirked and listened as Foggy opened the door, left his office and closed the door behind him. Matt exhaled, opened the file and began to read.

Once he was done, Matt understood exactly why Captain America was worried. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Call Natasha," he said.

 _"_ _Calling Natasha,"_ Siri replied.

"Come on," Matt said, as they dial tone went on. And on.

 _"_ _Hi,"_ Natasha's voice said.

"Hey, Nat?"

 _"…_ _You've reached my voicemail. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you. Bye._ "

 _Beeeeep._

Matt took a breath. "Hi Natasha, it's Matt. I just finished reading that accord. Cap's right. Oh gosh, I am referring to Captain America as 'Cap'. Not the point.

Anyway, Natasha, if it's agreed on, it's not good. There are people mentioned here, names I recognise, and this accord won't be enough for them. They'll want to make this law. They'll want to turn this into some sort of registration act or something, and then we'll all be in trouble, because the people will buy it. It's too easy to sell. This is just the start of a very slippery slope. I don't like it, but I don't know what to do about it. I'll, umm, speak to you later. Bye."

Matt hung up, and put his phone down. Saying the words out loud seemed to make it worse. Because if he had to become public, tell the world who he really was, what he could do… Fisk still had people out there, Matt was sure of it. If they found out who he was, then they'd come after not only him, but Foggy and Karen and Claire and anyone that Matt knew and cared about. Matt clenched his fists. He didn't know how to fight this using the law, and he sure couldn't fight it as the Daredevil. He was trapped.


	9. Chapter 9

"So Matt, that's, hey. Are you listening to me? Matt?" Foggy said. Matt looked distracted. It had been over a week since Matt's rendezvous with Natasha, and their lives appeared to have returned to normal. There had been no more packages, no more Avengers, no news, nothing.

"Shh," Matt said, listening as hard as he could, but not to Foggy. He ran out of Foggy's office, almost crashing into the door, and into his own. Foggy followed. Karen was out at an appointment, and wouldn't be back for a couple of hours.

"Matt, what the hell?'

"How do you open this damn thing?" Matt asked, pushing and shaking at his office window.

"What is going on?" Foggy asked.

"I can hear him, Foggy, but glass messes with my senses. Can you open it?"

"Move, before you break it," Foggy said, pushing Matt out of the way and opening the window. "And by him, do you mean…?"

"Shh," Matt said, sticking his head out the window. At any moment, Matt could lose him. The streets were getting busier by the minute as the New Yorkers stepped out for lunch.

"Matt, are you sure,"

"Shut-up, Foggy," Matt said. He sniffed and listened and looked around. He couldn't see Barnes, but he could certainly hear him. Barnes was moving fast, towards the river and away from their office. Barnes's heart was pulsing rapidly. His breathing was jagged, as though he had been running. Matt smelt blood, and the mechanics in his arm almost sounded broken. Barnes was hurt, and this time it was fresh. In the alleyway a couple of weeks ago, those had been old wounds. This was new. He was hurt and bloodied and headed towards the docks.

"Matt?"

"Shut-up!" Matt snapped, and hit his head on the window. He cursed, and tried to find Barnes again, but he was gone. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit Foggy." Matt felt around on his desk. "Where the hell's my phone?"

"It's,"

"Where is it?"

"It's here, Matt," Foggy said, grabbing Matt's arm and placing the phone in his hand. "You want to tell me what's going on? Because right now, you're acting like some sort of lunatic."

"Barnes is out there right now and he's hurt," Matt said, "Call Natasha."

"Wait, Bucky Barnes is in Hell's Kitchen now? What is happening, Matt?"

" _Calling Natasha,_ " the phone replied.

"Foggy, just go along, ok?"

"No, it's not ok. It's,"

" _Matt?_ " Natasha answered

"He's in Hell's Kitchen. Right now. Heading towards the docks. He's keeping to the alleyways, out of sight. Off the main streets. He's hurt, Nat, and,"

 _"_ _Matt, slow down, I can't keep up."_

"Barnes is in Hell's Kitchen now, Natasha."

 _"_ _Just a sec, Matt. Steve!"_ Matt heard Natasha call. _"We got him!"_

"I don't have him at all," Matt said, "I did, but I lost him. He's bleeding, Natasha. He was frantic, and,"

 _"_ _Hey. Calm down, Matt. We got this. We're on our way,"_ Natasha said. Matt could hear movement and voices in the background.

 _"_ _Put me on,"_ Matt heard Steve say, _"Sam! Nat's driving. Grab your gear, but stay in civvies. Hello Matt?"_

"He's hurt, Steve. I had him, but I lost him. He was headed towards the docks. I'll pursue."

 _"_ _No, just hang tight, son. You're in the office?"_

"Yes."

 _"_ _Stay there. Do not go after him. Hang tight. We'll be there in half an hour."_

"Doesn't Stark live around here somewhere? Can't you get anyone here quicker?"

 _"_ _I don't think we can call Stark right now, Murdock, and even if we could, I wouldn't be sending him on this case. Just stay there."_

"Just stay here?"

 _"_ _It's the middle of the day, Murdock,"_ Steve said. Matt could hear him running. _"You can't afford to do anything stupid."_

 _"_ _Hill's got the fort covered,"_ Matt heard Sam say, " _We're good to roll."_

 _"_ _You hear me, Matt? Stay where you are. I know it's hard, but right now, finding Bucky and bringing him in safely comes first."_

"Yeah, I know, but,"

 _"_ _No 'buts', son. We'll be there as soon as we can."_

Matt heard the line click, and Steve was gone.

"Whadda we do now?" Foggy asked.

Matt put his phone down and swallowed. Something wasn't right. Bringing Barnes in safely came first, Rogers had said. So what came second? Matt felt a knot in his stomach. There was something they hadn't told him, and whatever it was, it was important, and likely also dangerous.

"Matt?" Foggy asked, "You ok?"

"They're lying," Matt snapped. "They give me all that shit in those files, and still don't tell me the whole story. How am I supposed to help if I don't know what I'm up against? Huh? Why enlist me if they're going to keep me in the dark?"

"Matt, you've gone all red in the cheeks, and,"

Matt noticed he was breathing too fast. He sat down and put his hands up on his cheeks. He wanted to punch someone, preferably whoever had hurt Barnes. It dawned on Matt that someone out there right now had found Barnes and attacked him. That must have been why Barnes was out of breath, Matt thought, he'd been running from the attacker. Matt fought to control his breathing. Getting worked up wouldn't help anyone. "We have to stay here," he said, trying to keep his voice measured. "They're on their way."

"Who? The Avengers?" Foggy asked.

Matt nodded.

Foggy failed to stop a smile creeping onto his lips. "I know this is serious, but Matt, this is also so cool. The Avengers are coming to our office."

"Some of them," Matt said.

"It's still cool, Matt. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know it's serious, and all that with Barnes super-sucks, but, well, you know."

Matt shrugged and went back to the window, but finding Barnes again would be impossible without leaving the building. He scanned the streets for anyone who might be in pursuit of Barnes, but nothing stuck Matt as suspicious. They'd just have to wait.


	10. Chapter 10

In less than half an hour Matt heard a car pull up on the street below. "They're here," he said to Foggy. The two lawyers had been waiting restlessly in the office since Matt had got off the phone. Each had had little to say to the other, neither knowing what was appropriate given the situation. Matt now listened as three sets of footsteps ran up the stairs.

"Hello?" Steve said, as he knocked on the door.

Foggy opened it. "You're Captain America," he gushed, unable to contain his excitement. Natasha and Sam followed Steve into the office, and Foggy closed the door again.

"Sure am, son," Steve said, and looked around the office. "Murdock," he said, his voice measured and business-like. That of a military leader who had been in situations a hundred times more stressful than this. Rogers wasn't here for chat. He was here to do the job. "I need details. Be as specific as you can."

"He could be anywhere by now," Matt said, frustrated with the whole situation. Natasha was calm, Rogers was calm, why was everyone so ok with all of this? "He could have gone anywhere in the city. You won't find him."

"I'm sorry son," Steve said, "But I think this time we will."

"Why? What makes you so sure?" Matt snapped, though every reading he was getting from Rogers told him that Rogers meant it. "How do you know where he's gone?"

"Please," Steve said, "Just tell me what you know."

Matt recounted to the three Avengers what he had sensed. Sam stood with his arms folded across his chest, legs apart, and jaw clenched tight. Natasha casually leant against the wall, arms crossed also, a bag slung across her shoulder. Steve stood still, hands clasped. Foggy just stood and gawked at the Avengers. "Ok?" Matt finished.

"Sam, with me," Steve said. "Nat, you stay with Murdock. I'll call you when we're clear. You do not progress until I call, understood?"

"I know what's going on, Steve," Natasha said, "I get it. Don't worry, we'll wait until you call."

"Nat, this is serious."

"And this is me being serious, Steve."

"She is being serious," Matt said.

"No one asked you," Steve said to Matt, then turned back to Natasha, "And you sound sarcastic."

"I always sound sarcastic. It's a defence mechanism. Come on, Steve. I get it. I really do. Now get outta here. You got this. We got this."

Steve took a deep breath. It was then that Matt realised that Rogers was terrified. The seriousness, the short, sharp orders that his team no doubt already knew, calling out Natasha. Steve tried to take control over whatever he could, because so much was completely out of his hands. "Sam, let's go."

"Right behind ya, boss," Sam said.

"You wait, Natasha."

"I know, Steve," Natasha said, trying to sound gentle and sincere. "I know."

"Ok," Steve said, and opened the door. "Right."

Matt listened as Steve and Sam left the office, and began their descent down the stairs.

"Oh woh," Foggy said.

"Yeah," Matt exhaled. Meeting Captain America in a restaurant for breakfast was one thing, but having the living legend himself in their office was something else.

"That was Captain America," Foggy said.

"Yeah," Matt said.

"Great," Natasha said, "More member of the Captain America fan-club."

"And you're Natasha. And you and Matt are, oh wow, Matty."

Natasha tried to hide a smirk. "Foggy?" Natasha asked. "I can call you Foggy, right? That's not weird?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Yeah, sure, call me Foggy."

"Good, Foggy, cover for Matt. Matt, we're moving out."

"But Steve just said,"

"Foggy, I'm not talking to you," Natasha said, the smile gone, her voice cold. "You gotta cover for Matt. Matty, we're going now. We don't have time to waste here. As soon as Steve gives the all clear, we've got a job to do."

"A job?" Foggy asked, and felt a chill run up his back. Suddenly, the idea of Avengers in the office didn't sound so great. Not if they had jobs for Matt.

"What job?" Matt asked.

"No," Foggy said. "No, I'm sorry, but that sounds dangerous, and,"

"It probably will be," Natasha said, choosing to ignore Matt's question. "You up for it, Matt?"

"Yep," Matt replied. He did not belong to Foggy, and would not have allow Foggy to tell him what to do.

"No, Matt," Foggy protested, his concern growing.

"Foggy, cover for me, ok? Just do it," Matt said, "Karen will be back in - what time is it?"

"Coming up two o'clock," Natasha replied.

"Karen will be back real soon, Foggy," Matt said. "You've got to do this for me."

"You're not an Avenger, Matt!" Foggy yelled, ignoring Natasha. "This is not your job. Whatever she wants you to do, it is none of our business."

"I'm sorry Foggy," Matt said, "But it kinda is." Matt walked into his office and grabbed his bag and cane. "Let's go, Natasha."

"I fricken hate you sometimes, Murdock."

Matt shrugged. "You haven't read the files."

"You've told me what was in them."

"Yeah," Matt said, "Well I censored it."

Natasha opened the office door. Matt stepped into the corridor, and Natasha shut the door behind them, leaving Foggy standing angry, alone and confused in the office.

"Where are we going?" Matt asked.

"Back to yours," Natasha said, "Steve is right. We do have to wait, and it might be a while. But I need to get you up to scratch with the plan."

"So there really is a plan?"

"Do you think we just make things up as we go along?"

"Honestly," Matt said, "I have no idea how you work."

"We have to walk," Natasha said, opening the door to the street, "Steve and Sam took the car."

"Whatever," Matt said. He let Natasha take his arm.

"How much does Foggy know?" she asked.

"About me or the case?"

"Everything."

"Everything about me. I've censored what I've told him about the case. About Barnes and Hydra and all the other crap in those files."

"I understand."

"Why?" Matt asked, leading Natasha down a short-cut back to his house. The alleyway was almost empty. "What's going on, Natasha? What are we waiting for? How do you know where you'll find Barnes?" The secrets being kept were almost palpable. "You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

"I know," Natasha said, "So let's see how well you did your homework."


	11. Chapter 11

"So," Matt said, as they entered his apartment. He rested his cane against the wall and threw his bag on the couch. Walking home, Natasha hadn't given Matt any answers. "You wanna tell me what's going on now? How do Sam and Steve know where to find Barnes? What the hell is this mission? What do you actually want me for? If you've got Barnes, why do you still need me?"

"Because right now we're a little short on allies, and you're good, Matt," Natasha said, finding Matt increasingly testing.

"That's spin, Natasha. That's damn spin."

"It might be, but it's true."

"What do you all want, Natasha?"

"God, Murdock!" Natasha yelled, "Do you really need me to spell it all out? It's all there in the files, Matt. You're supposed to be a lawyer. You're supposed to put the pieces together. It's all there. Hydra called Barnes 'The Assest'. SHIELD code-named him 'The Winter Soldier'. You've read this, Matt. He's their _asset_. You legal types, you'd know what an asset is, I assume?"

"Natasha,"

"You know what it is, right? The definition of the term? Sure, a person can be an asset, but that's not what they meant when talking about Barnes. To them he is an object of value that can be used, traded or sold for a profit. Or he was. You saw him, Matt. He's not an asset any more. He's a liability. Hydra don't want him back, they want him out."

"Hydra? They're out there now?"

"Yes," Natasha said, "And they need to take Barnes out, but he's good. They made him good. They made him better than they are. All of Hydra couldn't find one scared, injured guy. But now they have, and they've finally caught up with him. That's why he'd have been bleeding, Matt. Because they found him."

Matt felt his stomach drop. "They're out there now. Right now, in Hell's Kitchen," he said. Karen and Foggy were out there. Claire. People he cared about. His city. He was right. Someone had attacked Barnes and that 'someone' was just about as dangerous as a threat could be.

"Yes," Natasha said. "Which is why we have to wait. Because you have 'I'm going to go and do something reckless and stupid' written all over you, Murdock. We have to bring Barnes in safely. First we gotta give them time to save him."

"You care about him, Natasha," Matt said, "You actually care about saving Barnes himself. You say it's about Steve, but it's not. I can hear it in your voice. You care about Barnes."

"I care about the job at hand," Natasha said, ignoring Matt's comments.

"What aren't you telling me?" Matt asked.

"It doesn't matter."

"I think it does," Matt said. At least she had inadvertently admitted there was something.

"No, Matt," Natasha said, "It really doesn't. It doesn't affect the case."

"It does, because if someone gets hurt because of whatever it is you're keeping form me, well, hell, Natasha,"

"Matt, please just let it go."

"No," Matt insisted, "What's not there? It's something you've taken from the files, isn't it? You're censoring them,"

"You did it for Foggy,"

"To protect him," Matt said.

"My motives exactly. And it's not important, which was why I had it destroyed."

"You had a file destroyed?"

"Part of it, yes. Because there are some things, Murdock, that will never help a case. Parts of history that are just so horrible that the best thing to do is pretend it never happened."

"What happened, Natasha?"

"I gave Fury the recommendation to have that part of the file destroyed. He agreed, and acted upon it."

"You know what I mean."

"Matt, let it go."

"Is it about Barnes?"

"Matt, it,"

"What did they do to him?" Matt wasn't actually sure he wanted to know. He'd read Barnes's file twice, and it wasn't pretty that way it was. Matt shuddered at the thought that there could be anything worse.

"See," Natasha said, "They're still twisting us, turning us against one another,"

"Natasha, please,"

"I wish I'd never read it, Matt! I wish I didn't know."

"Well right now, I'm thinking some pretty horrible stuff,"

"You wouldn't understand,"

"No, I wouldn't, because I'm not some crazy Nazi-era sicko." Matt took a deep breath. "Please Natasha. What happened? What did they do to him?"

She shook her head slowly. "Once they get him back to the Avengers facility, they'll have him scanned. It might take a few days or weeks even, but they'll see the scarred muscle tissue, and the lines where his bones healed…"

"What did they do?"

Natasha looked at Matt and swallowed. If she was going to tell him, she'd stare him down, whether he could see her or not. "Four times in the first 22 years, Bucky won. He escaped the drugs and the wiping and the brainwashing and cyrofreeze, and everything that did to his senses. Everything they'd done to him. Four times, he remembered. And four times he ran." Natasha reached up and removed Matt's glasses. She wanted to see his eyes. His mid-distance stare was better than her reflection in the lenses.

"And?" Matt said, prompting Natasha to continue. She placed his glasses on the table.

"Every time they caught him. He was good, but a lone man in Eastern Europe with the entirety of Hydra searching for you - the fourth time he was less than 10 miles from central Vienna, just north of the river. If he'd made it there, he could have gone to the American Embassy, where I believe he was headed. Sure, it was Soviet territory, but he would have been safe. There was a SHIELD Agent stationed in Embassy in Vienna, and," Natasha swallowed.

"But he never quite made it."

Natasha shook her head. "They found him. It's so hard to get away, and he'd made it so far…"

Matt could hear her choking up, but he wasn't sure what to do. "So they caught him, and…?"

"They'd throw him in the truck, and drive him back to wherever their dark hell holes were. One of their resident sickos would come in, and they'd beat him, and break his legs, and leave him in a cell. Then rinse and repeat for a few weeks, if you get my drift."

Matt nodded.

"They knew what they were doing. They never damaged his knees or ankles, too hard to fix. Eventually they'd decide it was time to patch him up, wipe him, and stick him back in cryrofreeze."

Matt felt sick in the stomach. "And if they catch him again,"

"No," Natasha said, "Like I said before, he's not an asset anymore. He's a liability. They'll kill him, Matt."

"But he got away. This afternoon. They had him, but he got away."

"We could not have got a luckier break, with him running past your office."

"Why did you remove this from the files?"

"And let Steve see it? It's hard enough as it is to try and keep him vaguely rational about this case," Natasha said, "Let's just get the call they've got him first, ok?"

Matt nodded. His stomach felt tight. "Is this why you don't care he shot you?"

"I got shot, Matt. Of course I care that he shot me, I just," Natasha shrugged. "I was shot by a ghost. Not many people can claim that."

"By the Winter Soldier. Not Barnes."

"Exactly," Natasha said.

Matt noticed that the room felt lighter. He and Natasha finally seemed to be on a similar page regarding the case. "So now what?" he asked. "What's this big plan?"

Natasha took her bag off her shoulder and opened it, taking out a number of papers. She unfolded a large sheet. "I don't know if you can read this, we didn't have time to add the braille, but we know whereabouts of certain Hydra hide-outs around New York. But it's a catch 22 - we take them all out, they know that we know a lot more than we're letting on, and they push us harder where they know they can hit us. But if we leave them, well," she sighed, "Then there was always a chance they'd catch up with Barnes. Which is where you came in. When you found him, and spoke to him, no less, we knew it wouldn't be long."

Matt ran his fingers across the map. He was beginning to understand what Natasha was implying. "Ink-jet printing. It's not as easy as braille, but I can read it."

"There's a Hydra cell on the edge of Hell's Kitchen, near the Hudson Yards," Natasha said, taking Matt's hand and placing it on the correct part of the map, "There's an abandoned packing shed. We believe they'll still be there. Having engaged with Barnes, likely in full daylight, they'll need to lay low until dark. However," Natasha tapped her fingers on the table, "They might get some visitors first."

"We're going after them," Matt said.

"You wanna punch some bad guys, Murdock?"

"Huh," Matt said. He did. He wanted to punch these guys more than anything. "But still, why me?"

"We're a bit light on numbers," Natasha said, "Light on fighters, anyway. And we're fighting with one hand tied, no thanks to Stark and this damned accord. Steve and Sam were always going to bring Barnes in together. If I was there too," she shrugged, "Well, we don't want to crowd the poor guy. But we have to clean up the Hydra cell operating closest to where we found Barnes. It's something I could do alone, but it's better to have back-up."

"And why not use your magic pink friend? Or the weird girl? Or that airforce guy?"

"I need someone who knows the terrain," Natasha said, "Someone I trust. Someone who can fight, and hold there own. Who won't need me to hold their hand, and who won't try to take control. Ain't many guys who tick all the boxes."

"I usually work alone."

"I know," Natasha said, "I used to do that too. I thought there was no way I could team up. Co-ordinate with others. Too many added variables. Too many extra liabilities. But eventually you realise, it's easier."

Matt traced his fingers over the map. "But we have to wait for Steve to call."

"We need to have Barnes safe, and clear of the area before we engage."

"How long will that take?"

Natasha looked at her watch. "I don't know. Possibly a couple of hours."

Matt nodded. "So what do we do in the mean time?"

...

Natasha's phone rang. She reached across Matt and grabbed it off the bedside table. "Steve? I'm here with Matt. I'm putting you on speaker," she said, as calm and smooth as ever.

Matt felt a little uncomfortable, sitting propped up naked in bed, with Steve Rogers on loud-speaker. He pulled the blankets up over his chest, as though Steve could somehow see him, or sense what he and Natasha had been up to while he'd been rescuing Barnes.

 _"_ _Hi, Nat,"_ Steve said. His voice sounded tight. Matt could hear the car engine. " _We're almost back at the facility. We - we've got Barnes. Sam knows a guy who can… We're umm,"_ Steve was distressed, but he was holding it together. Out of necessity, Matt thought. Besides, Rogers seemed like a tough nut to crack, but everyone had their tipping point, and Matt had long since realised that for Rogers, it was Barnes.

"Are we good to go?" Natasha asked, her voice even.

 _"_ _Yeah,"_ Steve said, _"You're good to go."_

"Ok," Natasha said, and hung up. She turned to Matt. "You got a suit?"

Matt knew she didn't mean the suit he'd been wearing earlier at the office. "Yes."

"Good," she said, and pushed back the sheets. "Then suit up."


	12. Chapter 12

"No killing," Matt said as they moved across the rooftops towards the Hudson Yards. On the streets below, the people of New York were heading out for a Friday night on the town. Off to dinner. Off to the theatre. To a party, on a date, to the cinema, to the game. No one looked up.

"Really, Murdock?" Natasha said. They'd been through the plan back at Matt's apartment as they'd suited up. However Natasha and Matt still found this one detail to be a sticking point. "They're going to try and kill us. They would have killed Bucky."

Matt bit the inside of his lip. He didn't want Natasha to be right, but he had a bad feeling that she was. "I need to talk to them."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll be very forth-coming."

"Let me try," Matt said.

"Fine," Natasha said, "But if I think the situation's getting out of hand, I get to intervene."

'Try and keep the fight away from me," Matt said.

"I know how to buy time," Natasha said. They'd been through this too. But Natasha let Matt go over and over the point. She'd been the same when she'd first started working in a team. It was hard to put your life in someone else's hands. She understood that. "Trust me, Matt."

"I do," Matt said. He knew Natasha wanted to help, only she liked guns and he did not. She liked guns a lot.

...

"How many?" Natasha asked as they stood on the roof of the Hydra building.

"Six," Matt said, sensing the body heat of the men below. "All male. All fit. All - distracted."

"I could have this over with in a minute, you know."

"We need answers."

"We really don't."

"No killing."

"We'll see."

"Natasha."

"What?"

"If you just wanted to take them out in one smooth sweep, you wouldn't have asked me to join you."

"Touche."

"Ready?" Matt asked. He knew she was. She was itching to get into the Hydra den and punch the lights out of these goons. Almost as much as he was.

"Let's go get some answers."

Matt looked at her as he reached down to lift open the glass roof door, and was glad he wasn't alone. "Can you smell that?" Matt asked, the door open only an inch.

"Smell what?" Natasha asked.

"Bleach. Cleaning chemicals. And paint. Fresh paint."

"I think they're getting ready to move out," Natasha said, crouching down next to Matt, trying to get a better look inside. The room below was all but empty save for the six men sitting on fishing stools, leaning over an iPad.

"They're waiting. Listening to the game on the radio."

"Actually, they're streaming it on an iPad, but that doesn't matter, does it?"

"No," Matt said.

"Can you - see the shape of the paint?" Natasha asked.

"No. Can you?"

"Yes," Natasha said, "The wet paint. It's still glistening in the light."

"What is it?"

"Huh," Natasha said, "They've painted over a seven-foot high Hydra octopus."

"They're definitely moving out tonight," Matt said.

"Yep."

"Ready to speed up the process?"

"What if I kill those lights, first?" Natasha asked.

Matt hadn't thought about the lights. "How many shots?"

"Three. One for each of light. They're fluorescent lights. Making the whole place very bright."

"Light or dark, it doesn't affect me either way," Matt said, "but I don't want it to impair you."

"Loving the chivalry, Murdock, but trust me. I've worked in the dark before. Now block your ears. This will be loud."

 _Bang. Bang. Bang._

Matt put his hands over his ears. Yells and shouts rang from below as the Hydra goons ducked for cover, presuming they were under attack. One of them fired his weapon blindly, the bullets doing nothing but bounce off the walls.

"Steve wouldn't much like that language," Natasha said, holstering her weapon.

"Ready?" Matt said, lifting up the door.

Natasha slipped inside. "Time for some real Avenging."

...

Matt shoved his stick up against the man's throat. By the skip of the man's heart, Matt guessed the man assumed it was a gun. Matt had no intention of making him think otherwise. "How did you find the Asset?"

"Why do you care?"

"How did you find him?" Matt snarled.

"He's got a fucking metal arm. How do you think?" That wasn't the correct answer, but Matt decided to let it slide. Now he had one of the men, he was mad.

"Six of you and one of him?"

"You don't get it," the man said, and tried to wriggle out of Matt's grip. Matt readjusted his arms to pin the man tighter.

"Six highly trained Hydra soldiers versus one exhausted, sick, injured homeless guy. Sounds like a great fight."

"You have no idea what he is."

"And you do?"

"He's a killer."

"And just what were you going to do once you had your hands on him?"

"I think you know." This was not a nice man, Matt thought. In no world would Matt want to have a beer with this guy. He smelt like steroids and body odour.

"Say it," Matt said, and pressed his stick hander into the man's throat.

The man gulped. "Why? He's already dead."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Matt asked.

"He is already dead. Can't you understand English?"

Matt felt his insides turn. Barnes wasn't dead, not unless something had gone terribly wrong in the interim. The worst part was that the man was convicted he was telling the truth. "Where is he?" Matt asked, desperate for the man to give something else away.

"Why would I care?" the man said, "But don't you worry, we'll clean up the mess in the morning. Remove that metal arm, and chuck the body in the river. No one will know. No one will find him."

"Why?" Matt growled. The man's tone told Matt that they didn't know Steve and Sam had found Barnes earlier. Why kill Barnes now? And how could he already be dead?

"You ask a lot of questions."

Matt hesitated for a moment. Something was wrong.

"Let me ask you something," the man said. Matt knew he had the man trapped. He listened around the hall. Natasha was proving a welcome distraction, holding the other men herself. One lay knocked out on the floor. So what had Matt missed? "Who are you working for? Who's sacrificing the Devil of Hell's Kitchen for a tiny bit of information on a dead man? What does it matter what we wanted with him? We wanted to him out. And now he will be."

"What did you do to him?"

"He's disposable. He's defective. Past his use-by date. Just a shame his tech is too."

"What does that mean?"

"The real question is," the man said, ignoring Matt, his heart increasingly rapidly, "How disposable are you? Heil Hydra."

Matt heard a tiny click and then the man's body went rigid. "What the…?" Matt said, as the man slumped forward, frothing at the mouth. Matt let go of the man, and his lifeless body dropped to the ground. Matt stepped back from the body. He wanted to yell to Natasha, tell her to get out, and get in contact was Steve.

A moment later Matt was lying sprawled on the ground. He wasn't sure how he got there. Stars flashed before his eyes and his head spun. The blow to his head messed with his senses. He used the wall to try and stand. He had to get up. He had to keep fighting. Natasha was still here. He couldn't leave her alone. They had to call Steve.

Matt sensed someone behind him. He swung and hit them, sending the Hydra goon stumbling back a few paces, but Matt was disorientated. He was literally fighting blind, and it scared him. The goon was upon him again, he grabbed Matt by the shoulders and threw him into the ground. Matt tried to regain his feet, but the goon kicked Matt in the calf with his steel-capped boot toe, sending Matt back onto his hands and knees. Another kick hit Matt square in the ribs, knocking all of the air from his chest. Instinctively, Matt curled his knees up to his chest and put his arms over his head to try and protect himself. He heard the goon laugh and then kicked him again, this time the kick hitting Matt's arm, just above his elbow. Pain shot down his arm to his hand.

Vaguely, Matt was aware that Natasha was still fighting. He wondered if she'd noticed him. He wanted to call out to her, but he didn't know how. How was he supposed to call for help?

"Get up, you dick," the goon snarled, and grabbed Matt's arm, pulling him into an awkward sitting position. Matt was too dazed to fight, and being pulled from the ground made his head spin. "What game do you think you're playing?" he goon laughed. "Heil Hydra."

Matt sat slumped against the wall. He heard a click.

 _Bang_.

Matt felt cold. He closed his eyes. It was late and he was tired and everywhere hurt. He wanted to go back to bed. Preferably with Natasha. He wondered where Natasha was now.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Just a quick thanks for the favourites, follows and comments. It's much appreciated.

* * *

Natasha hit one of the Hydra goons square in the jaw and he stumbled back, swearing. Natasha looked across the room which was dimly lit by the half-light coming in through the skylight, and saw Matt get grabbed by the shoulders and thrown the the ground. She kicked a Hydra goon in the stomach, and fall backwards. Natasha looked back in Matt's direction, where he lay curled up on the floor, a Hydra goon leaning over him. She wanted to call out to Matt, but she didn't know what to say. There was no way for her to get to him. Natasha pulled out her weapon. "Sorry Matty, but it's you or them,"

"Look out, lover," a goon she'd already taken out snarled, appearing from the shadows. Why could these guys not just stay down?

"Look out?" Natasha baited, looking him up and down, "Why, there's nothing to look at."

"Ugly bitch," the goon said, and made a run at her.

"Seriously?" Natasha sighed. In three quick moves, she had the man disarmed and unconscious at her feet. For a second, Natasha almost felt pleased.

 _Bang._

Cold dread filled her body as she whipped around to look back in Matt's direction. Her stomach dropped and her checks burned as she saw him sitting slumped against the wall, head dropped down, arms limp by his sides, a Hydra goon standing beside him, weapon pointed point blank at Matt's head.

 _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

No prisoners. The goon beside Matt dropped dead beside him, as did the three remaining threats around the room.

"Don't you dare," Natasha said, holstering her gun. She ran across the room, leaping over the bodies, and knelt down beside Matt. She ignored the body of the man she had just shot lying beside them, and the rigid body of the man Matt had been interrogating. They didn't matter. Only one thing mattered now. "Don't you dare…" Natasha felt Matt's neck for a pulse, and felt a rush of relief surge through her as she found one. "Matt? Matt I need you to wake up. Come on, Matt," Natasha lightly slapped his cheek, "Come on. I can't carry you. We need to get out of here. Come on," she begged, "Come on, come on. Please wake up."

A painful breath came out of Matt's lips.

"Matt?" Natasha asked. "Matt, I actually need you to speak, because I - I don't know ho else to communicate with you." Natasha blinked back hot tears. "Matt please," she slapped his cheeks again.

"Mmm?" Matt moaned.

Natasha exhaled with relief. "We have to get out of here. You're hurt Matt. You're really hurt. I need to get you to hospital."

"No…"

"You got shot, Matt?" Natasha looked at him. There didn't seem to be an obvious wound. "Where did you get shot?"

Matt groaned.

"Matt? Hey! Where did you get shot?"

"…Shoulder…"

"Right or left?" Natasha asked, running her hand across Matt's upper chest.

Matt yelped.

"Left it is," Natasha said, "Come on, Matt. We need to get you help."

"…Air…" Matt breathed.

"We'll get some air, we'll get out of here,"

"No," Matt said. He swallowed and shut his eyes tightly, trying to block out the pain. "Claire."

"What?"

"Call… Claire."

"Alright, but I don't have her number, and you don't have your phone. I have to get you to hospital, and,"

"No!" Matt cried. His tone hurt Natasha. "Home. And call Claire."

"Ok," Natasha said. She was worried. She hated being worried. It showed that you cared, and if you cared, that meant there was something that someone could take from you. "Ok, I'll take you home and call Claire. But you have to help me, Matt. I can't carry you." She pulled Matt's right arm around her shoulders and wrapped her arm around his waist.

With strength that Natasha didn't think he would possess, Matt pushed himself to his feet. Hanging onto him with everything she had so as not to let him fall, Natasha half guided, half dragged the dazed and bleeding Matthew Murdock from the Hydra hall, up the stairs and onto the rooftop. He cold air was a relief, and she let Matt sit down for a moment once they reached the roof. The moonlight and the nightlight of the city was brighter than the dim hall had been, and Natasha could almost see just how bad a state Matt was truly in. She wanted to remove his helmet to check his head, but she knew it wasn't safe. She had no way to patch him up until they returned to his apartment.

"Come on, superman," Natasha said, forcing Matt back to his feet, "Let's keep moving."

The journey back to Matt's flat was slow and hard. It took half an hour, but to Natasha it felt as though it had taken hours. They dropped threw the roof entrance, which Natasha quickly bolted once they were inside. Matt wandered dazed into the living room, murmuring.

"What are you saying?" Natasha asked.

"…ehe…"

"I can't understand you, Matt."

"Just call Claire," he breathed.

"Ok, ok, just sit down, ok?" Natasha said, guiding Matt to the couch. She went back into the bedroom and grabbed his phone off the charger. "How do I unlock this?" she asked.

"0 - 4 - 6 - 4," Matt breathed, then coughed.

Natasha entered the passcode and found Claire in Matt's contacts. She waited while the phone rang. And rang. "Come on," Natasha said. She walked back into the living room. Matt sat slumped on the couch. Natasha wondered if he was still conscious while the phone rang on, and on, and,

 _"_ _Aww, seriously?"_ a drowsy voice answered.

"Is this Claire?" Natasha asked.

 _"_ _Yeah,_ " Claire replied, " _Who is this?"_

"A friend."

 _"Whatever._ _What time is it?"_

"Umm, late," Natasha said, not having bothered to look at the time. "Matt, umm,"

 _"_ _Say no more,"_ Claire said, _"Where are you?"_

"In his apartment," Natasha replied.

 _"_ _Are you hurt?"_

"No, I'm fine."

 _"_ _Ok, good. Right, sit Matt down and don't let him move. Make him drink water and keep him conscious. I'll hopefully be there in under 25 minutes. If he dies before I get there, it's your problem. Ok?"_

"Yeah, ok," Natasha said, "Thank-you."

 _"_ _Let me save him first,"_ Claire said, and hung up.

Natasha hung up and put Matt's phone down on the coffee table. "Matt?" she asked.

"Mmm?" Matt moaned.

"Claire's coming, ok? She's on her way."

"K…" Matt exhaled.

Natasha looked around. "Where's the light switch?"

"Why bother?" Matt asked. His voice sounded distance.

"I need you to stay awake, Matt," Natasha said. She sat down on the couch beside him, and gently began removing his helmet. As she did, she could feel something sticky. Matt grimaced. "Hey, this is going to hurt a lot more before it starts feeling better, ok?"

"Mmm," Matt moaned. Natasha looked at his lifeless, unseeing eyes. "Nat?"

"Yeah?"

"I've to…"

"You have to what?"

"Call…"

"I've called Claire," Natasha said. "It's ok. She's on her way."

"…Steve…"

"I'll call Steve later," Natasha said.

Matt groaned and rested his head against Natasha's shoulder.

"You stay with me, you hear?" Natasha said, running her hand through Matt's hair, sticky with sweat and blood. "Don't you dare leave me alone."


	14. Chapter 14

"You can go and have a shower or whatever," Claire said, thoroughly washing her hands in the kitchen sink. Natasha lent against the bench and watched as Matt's blood ran from Claire's hands down the sink, diluted by tap water and soap. "I'll wait with him."

"Yeah," Natasha said. She wasn't tired, but a shower and a change of clothes probably wasn't a bad idea, especially since she was still in her Widow suit. Matt lay sleeping on the couch. Claire had patched him up, and Natasha had assisted where she could. Pulling the bullet from his shoulder had been the worst part. Claire had been excellent, so calm and collected as she stitched and bandaged Matt up. The gunshot had cracked Matt's collar bone, but his suit appeared to have acted almost as a bullet proof vest, diluting the force of the shot, and saving Matt from a much more serious injury. Natasha made a mental note to ask Matt about the suit, as it was something the Avengers would likely be very interested in. Apart from gun wound, Matt had concussion, a cracked rib, and would have some very bright bruising on his shin and arm where he'd been kicked. "Thanks, I won't be long."

"Take your time," Claire said, "I don't think I'll be getting any more sleep tonight."

"No," Natasha said and stretched. "But I still won't be long."

Claire dried her hands. "Up to you."

Natasha nodded and walked to Matt's bathroom. She shut the door and stripped off, and then turned on the shower and waited for it to warm up. As the shower began to steam, Natasha climbed in. She sighed in relief as the hot water washed over her body, and felt as her muscles relaxed. Maybe she was tired after all.

Twenty minutes later, with wet hair and dressed in her compression pants, sport socks, and one of Matt's hoodies, Natasha came back into the living room. Claire sat on one of the armchairs watching Matt sleep. Natasha sat down in the other.

"How many times have you done this before?" Natasha asked.

Claire shrugged. While Claire had been operating on Matt, they hadn't really spoken. Words had been kept to a minimum and to the strictly necessary. "More times than I'd really have liked to."

"Well, thank-you," Natasha said, pulling her legs up to her chest. "We need more people like you."

"If you and Matt are teaming up, does that make him an Avenger?" Claire asked.

"Ha," Natasha said, "I don't think he'd like that idea." When Claire had arrived, Natasha had decided that if Matt trusted this lady with his identity, she might as well explain to Claire who she was, and the censored reason as to why Matt was hurt this time.

"I don't know," Claire said, "It might be just what he needs. He shouldn't be doing this alone. Every time I get a call - I'm terrified it's going to be someone saying they don't need my med kit, they need a body bag. But maybe, with the Avengers," Claire shrugged. "It's not my business. I just stitch him up." Claire stood up. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Call me if he gets worse."

"Yeah, of course," Natasha said.

"Give him these for the pain," Claire said, taking a box of medication out of her bag, "But only have for the next 48 hours, two at a time, minimum four hours apart, no more than six a day. After that, it's normal painkillers or nothing."

"Ok," Natasha said, not sure if she should stand up or just stay seated. "Has he had any yet?"

"No," Claire said, "But he can next time he wakes up."

"Ok," Natasha said again.

"If he was anyone else, I'd say he needs oxygen and morphine and proper medical care, but hell. He meditates or some such crap. I don't know. I guess I'm just glad he's not dead yet."

"Yeah," Natasha said, "Same here."

"And Natasha," Claire said, collecting her things, "You better call Foggy. He needs to know. Matt's in too bad a shape to let this slide."

"Ok, yeah."

"Ok. Well, nice meeting you."

"You too. Thanks a lot, Claire."

"Yeah, well, you know. Bye."

"Bye." Natasha watched as Claire left Matt's apartment, then turned her attention back to Matt lying in front of her. Natasha got up and got a drink of water, before returning to the armchair. She sighed, picked up Matt's phone, and found Foggy in the contacts list. His phone rang, and rang, and rang, and,

 _"_ _Matt, I know you can't see, but it's like three thirty in the morning,"_ Foggy croaked, _"And it's Saturday, unless you're like,"_

"Foggy, it's Natasha," Natasha said, cutting Foggy off. "Matt's been shot. We're at his place, and Claire's just left, but Matt's - not so great."

There was silence.

"Foggy?"

A long, low sigh followed. " _Yeah, alright,_ " Foggy said, " _D'you need me to come now?"_

"No, I…" Natasha wasn't sure what she wanted to say. She wasn't used to being in the position where so many people cared.

 _"_ _Well you just told me Matt's been shot, so I sure as hell aren't going back to sleep."_

Foggy sounded cross. Natasha felt tears welling in her eyes. She wasn't just tired, she was exhausted. "Maybe?" she said.

Foggy groaned. " _What the hell were you and Matt doing?"_

"I'll explain when you get here," Natasha said.

 _"_ _Yeah, well you've got a heck of a lot of explaining to do,_ " Foggy said, _"You got Matt shot. I can't believe this. Can you put him on?"_

"He's asleep."

 _"_ _Fine. Whatever. I'm - I'm sitting up wide awake at three thirty on a Saturday morning. You owe me a sleep-in, Natasha."_

"Thank-you," Natasha said, and hung up. She put Matt's phone down on the table, and pulled her legs up to her chest again. Natasha rested her head on her knees and looked at Matt. "What went wrong?" she asked Matt's sleeping body. "You had that. Did you get your answer? Shit, Matt, what went wrong?"


	15. Chapter 15

"Natasha?" Matt murmured. He could hear someone sitting on the armchair, the beat of their heart, the slight creak the chair made as they moved, but his head throbbed and the effort to try and get an exact read on the person wasn't worth it. Matt recognised their smell. It was either Natasha, or,

"It's Foggy," Foggy said, and turned off his phone, and placed it on the coffee table.

"Foggy," Matt breathed. So Foggy would know everything, then. At least Matt didn't have to explain it to him

"Natasha'a gone for a run."

"Call her," Matt breathed. He tried to adjust how he was lying, but everywhere hurt and his limbs felt as though they were made of lead.

"What?"

"You - you have to call Natasha."

"I can't."

"Please Fog," Matt said, his voice cracking. Foggy wasn't impressed. Matt wondered what the time was. "Don't be a dick."

"What? I'm not being a dick, Matt. Her phone's over there on the charger on the kitchen bench."

"Where is she?" Matt asked.

"She's gone for a run," Foggy said. He sighed heavily.

"I need to tell…"

"Yeah, well it'll have to wait, won't it."

"Please don't be cross."

"Ah, Matt," Foggy groaned, "I got here at like, four am or some stupid hour after Natasha Romanov called me in the middle of the night."

"…Sorry…"

Foggy sighed. "I sent Natasha to bed when I got here. Your alarm went off at seven, and she appeared about twenty minutes later. She had a cup of tea, put up her hair, put on her shoes and said she was going for a run."

"How long…?"

"About a hour ago?" Foggy said, "Or there about. I don't think she'll be much longer."

"I need to… tell her…" Matt said. It hurt to breath and to talk and to think, but he had to tell Natasha what he knew, even if it was too late.

"Yeah, well she'll be coming back. I mean she left her phone here. And her Black Widow costume is hanging over the towel rack in the bathroom. That thing is some serious tech, Matt. I mean, I went in for a leak, and it's there all black leather and weird electronics and guns. Seriously Matt, there's about four guns in your bathroom."

"Huh," Matt said. "I need…" Matt gritted his teeth, "Do you know what happened?"

"To you? Yes, Natasha explained when she woke up this morning. What the hell were you doing, Matt? She said you had it, then next moment you were on the ground!"

"Barnes…" Matt swallowed.

"What?"

"Winter Soldier. I need Nat…"

"Matt, you're shaking and sweaty and feverish,"

"Everywhere hurts…"

"You need painkillers."

"I need… to tell…"

Foggy groaned and pushed himself out of the armchair. "You can have two of these now, I guess," he said, popping two tablets out of the wrapping. He grabbed a glass and half-filled it. "Natasha said Claire left them for you." Foggy knelt down beside Matt, and put one of the tablets in Matt's mouth, before putting the water to Matt's lips. Matt swallowed and felt the tablet drop down his throat. He opened his mouth and Foggy repeated the process. "They should kick in in about fifteen minutes."

"Thanks," Matt muttered.

"You're a mess, Murdock," Foggy said, standing up. He went and put the glass in the sink, then came and sat back down.

"Sorry,"

"Yeah, well,"

"I've got breakfast," Natasha said, opening the door. "Bagels all round. I would have got coffee, but I don't know what anyone drinks, and I Matt has quite a good collection of teas in the cupboard. And," Natasha stopped, and noticed Foggy starring at her. "What?"

"Nat?" Matt breathed.

"You're awake," Natasha said.

"You took a while," Foggy said.

"We - we have to call Steve," Matt said.

Natasha put the bag of food on the kitchen bench, grabbed her phone and came and sat down. "What's happened?"

"Answers," Matt said.

Natasha looked at Matt, then at Foggy who gave her a shrug, then back to Matt. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Matt swallowed. "I think there's something wrong with Barnes," he said, every word a struggle, but he had to tell her. He couldn't let it be in vain. "The guy I had, he - he said the tech was old. I think that's why they had to hunt Barnes down. You - you said every time they caught up with Barnes, after he escaped, back in the sixties, they - they fiddled with his arm. I think they added a kill-switch. Some - something, likely poison. But that was fifty years ago, and Barnes is strong. He fights. And he fights so hard…"

"He's being poisoned," Natasha said. She felt her stomach drop.

"It wasn't working," Matt said, glad Natasha had caught on so quickly. "The poison. It was too old. The kill switch. They caught him, and manually set it off."

"It's meant to kill him," Natasha said.

Matt nodded and closed his eyes.

"But Matt, they had him around lunchtime yesterday. That's like, sixteen hours ago."

"I know…"

"Shit," Natasha unlocked her phone and dialled for Steve. "I'm putting this on speaker," she said, "You both might as well hear."

"Nat," Matt said.

"Yeah?"

"If - if Barnes dies now," Matt swallowed, "It'll…"

"Yeah," Natasha said as the phone rang, "I know."

"Know what?" Foggy asked.

 _"_ _Hello?"_ Steve said before Foggy could get an answer.

"Steve, it's Nat, Matt and Foggy," Natasha said, "You're on loud-speaker. We've got a problem."

 _"_ _Yeah,"_ Steve said. He sounded stressed and anxious. " _We've got a bit of a problem here too. Bucky's not real well, and Maria can't,"_

"Bucky's being poisoned. Hydra inserted a kill-switch, and set it off," Natasha said.

 _"_ _Wait, how do you know that?"_ Steve asked.

"Long story," Natasha said.

 _"_ _Shit,"_

"Language," Natasha said, unable to help herself.

 _"_ _Natasha, it's not funny."_

"It's always funny, Steve."

 _"_ _Natasha, if he's dying…"_

"I know. Sorry."

 _"_ _How do you know about a kill-switch? What did you and Matt find?"_

Natasha looked at Matt. She wanted him to give her some kind of acknowledgement that what she had done was right, but Matt just lay with his eyes closed, a pained look on his face. "There was another part to Bucky's file," Natasha confessed. Matt's eyes opened and he tipped his head faintly in her direction. "I'm sorry Steve. I had it destroyed. I didn't think it could ever be - anything."

 _"_ _What do you mean?"_

"Steve, please, right now we just,"

 _"_ _What happened, Natasha?"_ Steve yelled. _"What have you kept from me?"_

"Steve, right now,"

 _"_ _Right now it's clearly very important, Natasha. What happened?"_

"Right now all you need to know is that Barnes is being poisoned and will die if we don't stop it," Matt said quietly.

 _"_ _Great, now we're taking medical advise from a blind lawyer. And why does Murdock sound so sick?"_ Steve growled.

"He got shot," Natasha said, "Part of the long story. Look, Steve,"

 _"_ _He got shot? What the hell were you two doing, Natasha?"_

"Hey, lay off, man," Foggy said.

"Foggy,"

 _"_ _Natasha, I swear, if he dies,"_

"Hey man, she was just trying to protect you,"

"Steve, I wish I'd never read it,"

 _"_ _How can I trust you Natasha, when,"_

"Look, buddy,"

"Steve,"

"Everyone just shut-up, ok?" Matt cried. The yelling made the pounding in his head even worse. He just wanted silence. Cool, calm silence. "Steve, they hurt him really bad, but he fought back. Bucky fought back. Against the drugs and the brainwashing. Against everything. How do we help? You can all fight later, just save him now."

 _"_ _I - I don't,"_ Steve stammered. _"How are we supposed to know what we're up against?"_

"Steve, tell me what to do," Natasha said.

 _"_ _Tell you what to do?"_ Steve said, _"Don't take things out of the fricken files, Natasha! Don't mess with the evidence! Because now Bucky is dying and,"_

The room went silent.

"What happened?" Matt asked.

"I just hung up," Natasha said.

"Why?"

"Because we were getting nowhere," she said. "Shit, I just hung up on Steve." Natasha put her hands up over her face. "Shit, shit."

They sat in silence for a moment. "What do we do now?" Foggy asked. "We have a duty to Barnes. We have to save him."

"I don't know," Natasha said, and shook her head, unable to look at Matt or Foggy. "I don't know what to do."

"Maria," Matt said quietly.

"Yeah, awesome, Matt," Foggy said, "Let's all say a prayer."

"Hill."

"What?"

"Nat?"

Natasha slowly looked up at Matt. "They'll all hate me. Steve's right, I shouldn't have…"

"Call Maria, Natasha."

"She won't,"

"She will. Do it."

Reluctantly, Natasha picked up her phone and called Maria, who answered almost immediately. _"Nat, what's going on? This place has just descended into madness. Steve's yelling and Sam's yelling and Wanda just went running past looking horrified and Scott's yelling - that's Sam's guy, he and his girlfriend took a red-eye last night, and he doesn't even work here and he's yelling."_

"We think Bucky's been poisoned, and I took things out of the file, and Matt couldn't even tell me what he knew because was concussed and asleep and it's all just a mess and I don't know what we're supposed to do, because if Bucky dies now…"

 _"_ _Natasha, slow down,"_ Maria said. _"I am going to text you the address of a guy I know. I tried to get hold of him last night, but he wouldn't answer. I will try again once I get off the phone to you, and whether he answers or not, I don't care. You bring him here."_

"Steve and Sam took the car," Natasha said.

 _"_ _You're in New York City, Natasha,"_ Maria exclaimed. _"Hire a car."_

"There's a place on just around the corner on 44th," Foggy said, "I know the guy. I'll call them now."

 _"_ _Excellent,"_ Maria said, _"I like that guy."_

"I need the fastest car they have," Natasha said.

"Ok," Foggy said, standing up and disappearing to Matt's room to make the call.

"Maria, what's your guy's name?"

 _"_ _Stephen. Don't call him Steve. He's a surgeon, and he's good Natasha. He's very good, but he doesn't like to get involved. He does, however, like a whole lot of seriously weird science stuff."_

"Selvig-style?"

 _"_ _Weirder. Which is why he came under my radar. But as far a surgeons go, he's the guy for the job. Between him and Mr Lang,"_

"Sam's guy?"

 _"_ _Yes,"_ Maria said, _"Between them two of them, if they can work together, we might be alright."_

"Oh god, Maria, everything's such a mess."

 _"_ _Romanov, right now, I do not need you to implode on me as well, understand? We can still save Barnes."_

"And if we're too late?"

 _"_ _Not an option, Romanov,"_ Maria said.

"Car's booked," Foggy said, reappearing from Matt's room.

 _"_ _Sounds like you're good to go. I'll text you Stephen's address now."_

"Thank-you, Maria," Natasha said.

 _"_ _See you soon, Nat,"_ Maria hung up.

"She seems cool," Foggy said, sitting back down.

"I gotta go," Natasha said, and stood up. "You'll stay?" she asked Foggy.

"Do I have a choice?"

"I'm fine," Matt whispered, feeling anything but. He just wanted quiet. He wanted to go back to sleep. The drugs were beginning to kick in, numbing the pain. Sleep felt like the best option.

"Shut-up, Matt," Foggy said. "Get outta here, Natasha. Go save the Winter Soldier. Don't let Matt have been shot for nothing."

Natasha's phone beeped, and the address appeared on the screen. "I'll keep in contact."

"Drive safe," Foggy said.

Natasha nodded.


	16. Chapter 16

"Hello?" a tall, thin man said, opening the door just as far as the chain would let it.

"Stephen?"

"Who's asking?"

"Maria Hill."

"You're not Hill. I know her."

"No, I'm not," Natasha said, "My name is Natasha Romanov. Maria Hill sent me here to collect you. Put on your shoes and let's get in the car."

"I don't know you," Stephen said, and went to shut the door, but Natasha stuck her foot in the gap.

"Maria has tried to ask you politely, but you've been ignoring her. Please come with me."

"Get your foot out of the way."

"I'll put my foot through your door and drag you to the car if you don't come willingly."

"You're desperate," Stephen said, "Which means you're open for bargaining."

"We're really not."

"What? Not desperate? Or not looking to bargain?"

Natasha decided she didn't like this guy. His facial hair reminded her too much of Tony. Was it some from of pre-requisite that super-smart science nerds with perfectly trimmed facial hair had to be jerks? And by the sounds of things, Sam's guy had jumped on the first available flight. Why did Maria's guy have to be such as ass? "Get in the car, Steve."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "What's in it for me?"

"You get to operate on a ninety-something year-old super soldier with a metal arm who is currently being poisoned by fifty year-old poison."

"What's the make-up of the poison?"

"Come with me and you'll find out," Natasha said, knowing she had his interest if nothing else.

"I choose my own team."

"We choose the team."

"I choose the location."

"We can't move the patient."

"I shall be invoicing."

"It's pro-bono."

"Miss Romanov,"

"Agent."

"Agent Romanov, you do see that there really is very little in this for me."

"Do you want to save a life?"

"Saving lives is what I do for a living. It's how I make money."

"Whatever," Natasha said, "Are you coming or to I have to drag you out?"

Stephen paused. "Super soldier?"

"Yes."

"It must be World War Two, if he's in his nineties."

"Obviously," Natasha said.

"Why has he got a metal arm?"

"It was World War Two. Shit went down."

"Agent Romanov," Stephen said, the shadow of a smile on his lips, "I think I might have a few more questions."

"Ask them in the car. Just grab some shoes, or not. Wear slippers. Whatever."

"How much time do you think we have?"

"To save him?"

The doctor raised his eyebrows.

"By one report," Natasha said, taking her foot out of the gap between the door and the wall for Stephen to remove the chain, "We're at about negative 21 hours."

...

Matt swallowed and opened his eyes. His mouth felt dry, and his body still felt numb. He could hear a Foggy breathing. "What time is it?"

Foggy leant forward and checked on his phone. "Just after ten in the morning. You nodded off after Natasha left."

"An - any word?"

"No word. So - well, I don't know what to make of that."

"Claire?" Matt asked. He suspected that Claire would likely come back some time today or tomorrow.

"I don't know. I haven't seen or heard from her, Matt. She had left last night before Natasha called me."

"M'sorry," Matt muttered, even though he wasn't really sure why. Foggy was mad, so it seemed like the correct thing to say. Matt could feel that Foggy was holding it all inside. Matt adjusted his position slightly. "You can let it out."

"What?"

"Whatever you need to say. I - I can feel you bursting."

"Ok," Foggy said, and adjusted his position in his chair, "So what the hell, Matt!" he exclaimed, animated. "What the actual hell? You got shot, Matt. You fricken got shot, and then Natasha fricken Romanov calls me in the middle of the night to tell me you're not doing so great. What the hell were you two doing last night? You had to go out and be a hero, Matt? It's not enough to be bedding a fricken assassin, you two have to go and play Avengers as well? You could have been killed, Matt. What were you thinking?"

Matt felt his bottom lip tremor. He clenched his teeth together and tried to take a deep breath, but his chest felt too tight, and he couldn't inhale enough air. "I - I'm sorry, Foggy, I - I can't," Matt choked.

"Hey, you told me to let it out."

"No - I - I can't breath."

"Oh, shit," Foggy said. "What do you need me to do?"

"Help me sit up."

Foggy stood up, stepped around the coffee table and gently lifted Matt into a sitting position. Matt groaned in pain as he was moved and gasped for breath.

"Don't you fricken die on me, Murdock," Foggy grumbled, rubbing Matt on the back. He wasn't sure if that would help or not, but he didn't care. It felt like the right thing to do.

After a moment, Matt managed to control his breathing. "Ok," Matt whispered, "I'm ok now."

"You're not going to do that again?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to lie back down?"

"Nuh," Matt muttered, leaning into the side of the couch and pulling his knees up to his chest.

Foggy adjusted the blankets around Matt to keep him warm, then went and sat back down. "You got shot, Matt. What the hell am I supposed to tell Karen? You've got a sprained ankle and huge-ass bruise on your right leg. Easy, you stepped in a pothole, fell over and smashed your shin on the sidewalk."

"Foggy," Matt breathed.

"Shut-up, Matt," Foggy said, "I get to talk. Concussion? Also easy. Your cane only tells you what's happening at your feet, not above your head. You walked straight into some overhanging scaffolding. Cracked ribs? Well, you can just suck that one up. If anything, lie and say you think you might be getting that chesty cold that's been going around. But you got shot, Matt," Foggy said. "You got shot in your shoulder and yeah we can make up some shit about you falling over and hurting your arm, but you got fricken shot. With a gun. Claire and Natasha pulled the bullet out using fricken bathroom tweezers. You could have been killed, Matt! You got shot and it is not ok."

Listening to Foggy's voice, Matt noticed that Foggy wasn't just mad, he was scared. And whenever Foggy was scared, really scared, it tended to come out as anger. "I'm so sorry," Matt said, a sob escaping him.

"Yeah, well, maybe think next time, ok Matt!" Foggy cried, "Don't you dare get fricken killed on me. It's not fair, Matt. It's not fair."

"That - that's why we did it," Matt said. He could feel tears welling in his eyes, "Because what they did to Barnes for seventy years wasn't fair. So Nat and I went after them. I got - I got some answers. But we - we were outnumbered, and," Matt had to stop to control his breathing.

"Oh, come on, Matt," Foggy said, "I get why you wanted to help the guy. I get why we needed to save Barnes and help him and all that. I do. But why the hell would you go after Hydra? Why do that? We saved him, Matt. So why go and, oh shit, Matt. I don't know. Why couldn't Steve and Sam rescuing him be enough for you?"

"Bucky's Steve's me to my you."

"What?" Foggy asked, "Matt, that doesn't make sense."

Matt slowly closed his eyes to compose himself and collect his thoughts. "Bucky is to Steve what you are to me," he said.

Foggy didn't reply.

"I w-will always find you, Foggy. I won't let you fall, and if you do, I - I will always find you. And if you need saving, and I need someone else to do the punching, well," Matt choked back a sob. "I will always find you."

"Oh, Matt," Foggy said and shook his head. "I already knew that." Foggy leant back in the chair. "So you really did go Avengering?"

"I don't - think it's a verb."

Foggy sighed, "Matthew Murdock, what on earth am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry," Matt said.

"Yeah, I know," Foggy said. He shrugged. "I guess I probably shouldn't yell at you. But if I get another phone call in the middle of the night from someone telling me you've had your ass kicked and you're more than half-way dead - damn it, Matt, I'm taking you to hospital. Because one day Claire won't be enough. And so long as I have anything to do with it, I am not going to let you get yourself killed, buddy."

"I know," Matt breathed, "I know."

"Yeah, well," Foggy said, and adjusted how he was sitting, "You go back to sleep or sit there or whatever."

"When will Natasha be back?" Matt asked.

"I don't know," Foggy said, "But super assassin or not, do not think for a moment that she has missed one of my lectures."

"No," Matt said, and slightly tilted his head in Foggy's direction, "I thought I heard you earlier, but I wasn't sure if it was just a dream."

"Good," Foggy said, and picked up his phone, "Well, go back to sleep. I'll be right here, watching Netflix. But I'm waking you up for lunch, because shot-up or not, you still have to eat."

Matt slowly eased himself back down. "Avocados?" he asked.

"Yeah," Foggy said, "Avocados."


	17. Chapter 17

Natasha's phone rang. "Can you answer that and put it on loud-speaker?" she asked Stephen, handing him her phone as she overtook another slow Saturday driver.

"It's Maria," Stephen said.

"Just answer it," Natasha said. Everything was annoying her. Stephen Strange. This car. The other drivers on the road. The fact that she'd hung up on Steve. The fact that Steve had yelled at her. That she'd left all of those terrific bagels sitting on Matt's kitchen counter.

"Alright," Stephen replied, and answered the call.

"Maria?" Natasha said.

 _"_ _Natasha, I need an ETA,_ " Maria said.

"Twenty minutes," Natasha replied. "I'm on the freeway, and we're leaving New York fast behind."

 _"_ _Can you make it quicker?"_

"She's already doing 120," Stephen said.

Natasha ignored him. "What's happened?"

 _"_ _Barnes has spend the last fifteen minutes on the bathroom floor spewing his guts out. For a guy who as far as we know has only eaten the sandwich we gave him last night in the past seventy years, there is an awful lot of sick."_

"Is he still being sick?" Stephen asked.

 _"_ _No,"_ Maria said, _"He seems to have stopped. Steve literally had to scrape him off the floor and carry him back to bed."_

"Put him on an IV and," Stephen began.

 _"_ _Yeah,"_ Maria said, _"Not gunna happen."_

"Agent Hill, you need to,"

 _"_ _Yeah, well you try telling him that when you get here."_

"Has he said anything?" Natasha asked.

 _"_ _Not really."_

Natasha put her foot down.

"Agent Romanov, do you mean to get us both killed?" Stephen asked.

"I don't comment on your cape, you don't comment on my driving. He's wearing a cape, by the way, Maria."

 _"_ _That doesn't surprise me, Nat."_

"ETA just over ten minutes," Natasha said, watching the speedometer nudge 150.

 _"_ _Thanks Nat. Stephen, I've got a file ready for you when you arrive. X-rays and the like. Turn around is going to have to be quick. I don't know how much fight Barnes has left."_

"Just tell him to hang on," Natasha said, "Matt got shot. Barnes does not have my permission to die."

 _"_ _I'll let him know,"_ Maria said.

"This is all very unorthodox, Agent Hill."

"Says the man in a cape."

 _"_ _I'll see you both shortly,"_ Maria said and hung up. Natasha pushed her foot down on the accelerator and nudged the car to its limit. They would not be too late.

...

Natasha and Stephen arrived at the Avengers facility ten minutes later. Maria Hill stood out the front with a folder in her arms.

"Natasha, Stephen. I'd say good morning, but the feeling around here is generally the opposite."

"Agent Hill, I strongly object to the way I have been handled this morning. Agent Romanov is rude, threatening, and a dangerous and reckless driver."

"You might have to call your friends at the Transport Department. The car hire company probably won't be too pleased if I got a speeding fine or two," Natasha said, closing the car door and walking around the other side.

"I'll call them later," Maria said, and handed the folder to Stephen, "This is everything we currently have on Barnes's physical condition."

"Did you get the IV into him?"

"No," Maria scoffed.

"Is he on oxygen?"

"That Steve did manage to get him to agree to," Maria said.

"Agent Hill, if the man is as sick as I am lead to believe, then his opinions regarding his care are close to invalid. Put the IV in."

"Stephen, we are not having this discussion. Please follow me," Maria said, and marched into the building, Stephen following close behind, continuing to object.

Natasha lingered outside for a moment. She wasn't sure if Steve, who would undoubtedly be by Bucky's side, would wish to see her. Natasha wandered slowly into the Avengers facility, and made a left for a bathroom break.

Looking in the mirror, Natasha saw a messy and tired figure staring back at her. Her hair in a ponytail and wearing her running gear and Matt's hoodie, Natasha hardly looked the part of a formidable super assassin. She splashed her face with cold water to try and look a little more alive. Now she just looked wet, but the ridiculousness of the situation made Natasha laugh. They found Bucky. Matt got shot. Stephen Strange wore a cape as everyday wear, and he was neither an android or an Asgardian.

Natasha wiped her face, and knew that she had to go to Steve. Last night she took on six armed Hydra goons with a blind guy as her partner. This morning she'd had a lecture from Foggy Nelson on responsible partnerships and Matt Murdock's long line of questionable girlfriends, and the fact that she took 'questionable' to a whole new level. Natasha took a drink of water from the tap and stood up straight. She could certainly face a grumpy Captain Rogers.

...

"Where did you find this man?" Stephen asked, sizing up Scott Lang as he changed into surgical scrubs.

"Breaking and entering," Sam replied, having expected Maria's guy to be a bit on the odd side, but not this weird.

"Please be serious."

"Hey," Scott said, "I wasn't breaking. Just entering. And next time I shall ask, because now we're all buddies."

"You've got to be kidding me," Stephen said.

"Hey, it's cool, man," Scott said, "Now, you ready to save this poor guy?"

"I suppose that is why Agent Romanov dragged me from my pleasant morning."

"Stark left so much awesome stuff here," Scott said, choosing to ignore the doctor. "There're these mini spanners, and mimi screw-drivers, and one of these things," Scott said, pulling a small instrument from his pocket. "Which I borrowed," he said, looking at Sam, "And will put back. I don't even know what it is. Or what it does. Or what it's supposed to do."

"Am I honestly supposed to work with him?" Stephen asked Maria who had no qualms about waiting in the men's locker room.

"Strange, just try and get along, ok?" Maria said, wondering how she'd become nanny to a team of supposed super heroes and their highly peculiar allies. "You ready to come meet the patient?"

"Her presence is annoying," Strange said, as Natasha joined the little group leaving the locker room.

"Oh for…" Maria trailed off.

"You must be Scott," Natasha said, ignoring Strange.

"Hi, yes, I'm Scott," Scott said, and extended his hand to Natasha.

"I'm Natasha," Natasha replied and shook his hand.

"This place is brilliant and I'm super excited. I mean, this sucks for Barnes and Rogers and stuff, but man this is cool."

"Yeah, we tend to get that reaction."

"I mean, I met the pink guy,"

"Vision?"

"Yeah, and he is so cool. Woah, that guy looks like shit," Scott said, as they entered the room where Bucky lay.

Steve, who was sitting by Bucky's beside, turned around and looked at the group, his face grim and pale. Bucky lay in bed, looking deathly pale and feverish, with three Steri-Strips placed across a fresh wound on his forehead. Scott and Stephen positioned themselves on the far side of the room to Bucky's left. Steve sat on Bucky's right, holding his hand. Natasha noticed that Bucky was too weak to properly grasp Steve's hand in return. A screen had been set up across Bucky's left shoulder so that he, Steve and anyone else on his right would not be able to see the procedure.

"Right," Stephen said, to himself as much as to anyone else, and began to clip the x-rays into the board, "What have we here…"


	18. Chapter 18

Sam and Maria had taken their leave, leaving Natasha sitting out of the way in the corner, Steve by Bucky's bedside, and Scott and Stephen in the room with Bucky.

"Local anaesthetic has been applied to the area, as a general anaesthetic has been refused by the patient and his next of kin," Stephen said.

"Is there a reason for the commentary?" Scott asked. "You know no one is recording this, right? Unless they are. Are they?"

"No," Natasha said.

Stephen rolled his eyes, and continued flicking through the notes. Scott examined the various instruments set up beside him, having little idea as to quite what he'd need until they were able to open Bucky's metal arm.

Bucky lay with his eyes closed. Natasha wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. She realised that Scott and Stephen had very much been thrown in the deep end, having to remove whatever part from within Bucky's metal arm that held the poison without destroying anything that enabled the arm to work. From what Natasha could understand, the lines which held the poison were closely entwined with those that allowed Bucky to move the arm, and were also very closely attached to the muscles in his shoulder and upper chest.

"Hey," Natasha said quietly, despite the fact that everyone could hear her regardless, "Cap?"

"Mmm?" Steve mumbled, half in his own world.

Natasha uncurled from her seat and went and stood by his side. "Go and shower," she said, "You look like shit, you're wearing the same clothes you were in yesterday morning, and you smell vaguely of vomit."

"Can't leave him," Steve said.

"Hey, he's a super soldier," Natasha said, "Scott and Stephen have got this. Bucky's not going anywhere. Go and shower. You'll be back before they begin proper."

"I hate to admit, but I agree with Agent Romanov," Stephen said.

"You do smell like sick, pal," Scott said.

"I…" Steve began, and sighed desponded, knowing he was outnumbered.

"I'll take your spot," Natasha said.

Steve nodded and stood up. The movement made Bucky open his eyes. "I'll be right back," Steve said, "I'll be ten minutes."

"S'k," Bucky breathed, his lips barely moving.

Steve swallowed heavily and nodded. He let go of Bucky's hand and left the room before he could have time to change his mind.

Natasha took Steve's seat. It was warm from his body heat. "Hey," she said to Bucky and took his hand. She caught Stephen's eye momentarily before looking back at Bucky. He stared at her with his glassy eyes. "You think you can do me a favour?" she asked.

Bucky just stared.

"I know what happened to you. I read you file. All of it. Even the bit Steve hasn't read because I took it out to protect him. And I know you're not big on needles. I reckon they tricked you into the local anaesthetic, but those needles were quick, and now you can't feel what they're doing to you, right?"

Bucky swallowed, his wide eyes staring.

Natasha glanced quickly at Stephen, who nodded. "We're going to give you an IV drip. The medicine will help rehydrate your muscles. That's all it will do. For now, anyway. Afterwards, Dr Strange is probably going to want to give you more medicine to help you. I don't even know if you're understanding this, so please give me something," Natasha said.

Bucky purposefully opened and closed his eyes.

"Ok," Natasha said, "So you trust us? You trust us to help you?"

Bucky's eyes welled with tears. Stephen moved around to the same side of the bed as Natasha.

"Don't you cry on me," Natasha said, "I'm really bad with crying."

"K," Bucky whispered, his eyes flickering to Stephen. Scott stood still and watched.

"Let Stephen take your hand," Natasha said, "But keep your eyes on me." She put her hand on his face. He felt cold and clammy, but she didn't care. He had to take the IV. "Ready?" Natasha said, to Strange as much as to Bucky.

Stephen nodded and turned Bucky's hand over.

"I…" Bucky began, and then yelped as Strange stuck the needle into his hand.

"James," Natasha said. Bucky eye's snapped to hers. Before Natasha could think, she found herself pressing her lips against his. She kissed him for a moment, and then pulled back. His lips were cold and his breath smelt like sick, but Natasha didn't mind.

Bucky stared at her with his mouth open.

Natasha gave an awkward laugh. "Well I think you've now had more action than Steve has for the past seventy years."

"Huh," Bucky said. His teeth chattered and he looked as though he wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or cry.

"It's not so bad, is it?" Natasha asked.

Bucky's eye flickered down to his hand, then back to Natasha. "I…"

Natasha forced a smile. "I'm Natasha, by the way."

"James Barnes…"

"So unorthodox," he Strange muttered and shook his head, back on the other side of the bed, examining the x-rays.

Natasha sat holding Bucky's hand for a few more minutes before Steve reappeared, hair still damp from the shower, smelling of soap and deodorant. "How did you do that?" he asked, noticing the IV in Bucky's hand.

"Just a little old trick I know," Natasha said, standing up and letting go of Bucky's hand.

Steve retook his seat.

"Oldest trick…in the book," Bucky whispered.

"I don't half suppose," Steve said.

Natasha sat down and pulled her legs up to her chest.

"Hey Steve?" Bucky asked, his voice hoarse and raspy.

"Yeah?" Steve said.

"You remember…that Fair? …The future?"

"Yeah," Steve said, almost overcome with the fact that Bucky was speaking with him.

"Yeah," Bucky breathed, "I think… we found… the future…"

"We should have stayed in '43, don't you think?"

"We'da missed…that steak…" the shadow of a smile appeared on Bucky's lips.

"Steak?"

"B - Belgium…"

"Bastogne," Steve said, his eyes widening with recognition, and hope swept rapidly across his features.

"That steak…" Bucky trailed off.

"Is still the best steak I've ever eaten," Steve said, recalling the mouthwatering juices of that rare delicacy they'd enjoyed during a siege in Belgium. It had been the first food they'd had that hadn't been out of a tin for months.

"Best steak… anyone's ever eaten."

Steve laughed. He actually laughed and Natasha smiled. She felt her hopes lift. "Of all the animals in the word, that one cow in Bastogne," Steve said.

"…Military send-off…"

"With full honours," Steve said, "We gave a funeral to the remains of the cow once we'd eaten," Steve explained to Scott and Stephen who were looking on quizzically, "That cow saved the lives of the Howling Commandoes. Helped us win the siege."

"…Good cow…" Bucky breathed.

"Yeah," Steve smiled, "That was one mighty fine steak."

"Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"I… don't think I'm very well,"

"Hey," Steve said, and squeezed Bucky's hand gently, "I've gotten over scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, heart trouble, asthma, severe colds, and, well that was all before penicillin."

"I don't… know what that is…"

"No," Steve said, "But I reckon a good dose of that might fix you right up. Plus we got the doctor here, and Scott, he's an engineer. And there's Sam and Maria and a whole team of others you haven't met yet. They're all here to help, Buck."

"And Natasha," Bucky whispered.

Quite to her surprise, Natasha blushed. She was very glad Matt wasn't there, as he'd no doubt comment on the fact that at Bucky's words her heart skipped at beat.

"Yeah," Steve said and turned to look at Natasha and gave her a small smile. "We wouldn't have got far without Natasha."

"Hey, no getting all soppy on me," Natasha said, and stood up again. "If you boys are going to get all soft, I'm going to go shower."

"Where'd you get the hoodie?" Steve asked.

"Borrowed it off Matt. I don't think he'll notice."

"I'm ready to begin if Mr Lang is," Stephen said.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Scott said.

Bucky clenched his jaw. "Steve…"

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said, "Ten minutes, Nat," he teased, "I'm timing you."

"I'll be back in nine," Natasha said, and slipped from the room.


	19. Chapter 19

It took almost four hours, but eventually Stephen and Scott were finished. The vile containing the poison, the kill switch, and the cords connecting it to Bucky's bloodstream had been removed. It would take a couple of days before they would know for sure how successful they had been with avoiding any of the delicate systems that gave movement and feeling to Bucky's arm, but at this early stage, Scott and Stephen were happy to call the whole thing a success. Stephen insisted in bandaging Bucky's upper arm as well as his shoulder and putting his arm in a sling, something to do with his psychology, and treating the metal arm as a part of a whole, not a separate entity. Natasha vaguely understood why that this was important, but since she was running on three hours sleep and almost no food, she wasn't really in the headspace to care.

Once it was done, Bucky was unhooked from the medical equipment, albeit to Stephen's protestations, and Steve carried Bucky's limp body from the surgical room to one of the suites in the same wing of the facility as Steve and Sam's rooms. Natasha followed close behind, her body having resorted to autopilot.

"You guys ok?" Sam said, catching up with them in the hall.

"We're just getting Buck to bed, Sam," Steve said.

Sam opened the door to the room, and then went and pulled back the blankets. Steve carefully lay Bucky down. Bucky groaned, fighting to maintain consciousness.

"It's ok," Steve said, carefully arranging Bucky's body, adjusting the blankets and tucking Bucky in. "You don't have to go anywhere else now. Sleep it off, soldier. We're right here with you."

"Hey Steve?" Bucky whispered, his words slurred.

"Yeah?"

"You 'member that time I…carried you…"

"It was more than just the one time," Steve said, fiddling with the blankets, "Just returning the favour. Get some sleep."

"Mmm," Bucky closed his eyes. Steve grabbed another blanket from the cupboard and put it over Bucky, who was still struggling to maintain proper body temperature. Sam, Steve and Natasha then collapsed on the couch.

"How long have you had the room set up?" Natasha asked, looking around. The flannelette sheets on the queen size bed, woollen blankets and the stripy quilt told her that far from a five minute hack job. The bookcase with about half a dozen select books and plenty of room for more, the bedside tables, the lamps, the dresser and wardrobe. The wireless radio, the desk with writing paper and pens, the couch. Everything had been carefully hand-picked. With the afternoon sun streaming in giving the room a welcoming golden glow, Natasha didn't need to ask why Steve had done it. The room already felt like a home.

"I've been collecting the odd thing ever since we found out he was alive," Steve said, "But I started to set the room up last week when it seemed as though we were really getting close with Murdock."

"We did it, man," Sam said, not really listening to Steve and Natasha, unable to take his eye's off Bucky, despite the fact that all they could see was a mop of hair and a large pile of blankets. "We saved him."

Steve nodded. "Looks that way."

"You should get some sleep, man. You and Nat, both."

"What if I sleep on the couch?" Steve asked.

"I'm not your mom or your CO, Cap," Sam said, "Sleep wherever you want."

"I might sleep here," Steve said.

"I might get something to eat first," Natasha said, pushing herself up. "I bought bagels this morning and left them all at Matt's."

"I'll whip you up my world famous cheesy tuna macaroni," Sam offered, and stood up.

"Sounds pretty good. Steve?"

"I'll stay here. Save me some for later."

"Ok," Natasha said.

"Get some zee's, Cap."

"Will do," Steve said, already stretching out on the couch.

...

Steve groaned. The noise stirred Natasha from her nap. "Did you make that noise on purpose or by mistake?"

"Mistake," Steve said. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, the blanket that Natasha had draped over him dropping to the floor. "What time is it?"

"Nearly seven," Natasha said, sitting in the chair at Bucky's desk. Bucky continued to sleep deeply. Steve picked up the blanket and held it tightly. "Did you get much sleep?"

Steve shrugged.

"What's up?" Natasha asked.

"I keep thinking," Steve said, leaning back against the couch and looking at the ceiling.

"Well that's a change," Natasha teased.

Steve guffawed, but kept his eyes on the ceiling. "I keep thinking that I just want to go back. To a time before all this when everything was good. But then I remember, if I go all the way back, then I was sick with everything and probably had a life expectancy of about thirty-five. But I had Bucky."

"Huh," Natasha said.

Steve continued. "So, what about post-serum? I had Peg, but I didn't have Bucky. And then we found out Bucky was assumed dead, and I just," Steve stopped and collected his thoughts. "Then we rescued them. So I had Bucky and I had Peggy. Only problem was it was 1944 and it was the middle of the War, and we knew nothing about D-Day, because it wasn't our mission. Maybe, if I could, that's where I'd go back to. Is that so wrong?" Steve asked.

"What about it?" Natasha asked.

"It was the War, Nat!" Steve exclaimed, still keeping his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Natasha wondered what Steve was really seeing. She guessed it wasn't the white painted roof. "It was the War and we were in constant danger, but if I had to go back to any time, that would be it. Because I had Bucky and I had Peggy and I had the Howling Commandos and it was win or the literal end of the world. Failure was not an option. We could not lose. And then Bucky fell and I realised then I'd already lost, and we didn't even look for him, and," Steve choked on his words.

"Hey," Natasha said, standing up. She came over to Steve, and stood over him, forcing him to look at her. "It's not wrong. But it's gone, Steve. That world is gone."

Steve blinked, forcing back tears. He relaxed his shoulders and lowered his head, looking at Bucky asleep in the bed. "In my head, it's only '49," Steve said, "It's amazing what they've done with London in five years."

"Hey," Natasha said, sitting down on the couch beside Steve, "No crying."

Steve sniffed. "I keep thinking I wanna go back but there's nowhere I want to go back to. Not really. Because I know that even the time I might want ends with Bucky falling off the train, and we didn't even look…"

"Well then," Natasha said, cutting Steve off before he could start blubbering. She was not going to have Captain America cry. Not now. Not after they'd saved Bucky. "Maybe it's lucky we don't get to go back. We have to go forward. And I know some stuff still sucks, but you've got me and Sam. And Clint's on call. And I don't know who's weirder out of Wanda and Vision, but they're here. And Scott and Stephen Strange. Matt. Maria, and Fury, who sent a Snap-Chat to Maria a few hours ago of himself enjoying dinner in Naples. He's really enjoying that cruise. He actually looked like a regular guy," Natasha looked at Steve, who was biting his lip, "And, well, now you've got Bucky back, Steve. We won this round. Sure Matt took a hit, but we won."

Steve sighed. "I guess."

"Hey," Natasha said, and gave Steve's a nudge with her elbow, "Come on."

"Nat, I - I'm sorry."

"For what?" Natasha asked, "There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

"On the phone earlier, I was outta line."

Natasha shrugged. "I guess I'm sorry about that too. I shouldn't have kept the information from you."

"I know why you did it," Steve said, "And you know, I don't think it would have helped much. Huh."

"What?"

Steve forced half a smile. "I guess we just had a total communication breakdown. You had part of Bucky's file destroyed to try and protect me. I didn't debrief you and Matt properly after Sam and I found Bucky, as I didn't think we had time, and that the exact circumstances didn't matter. Matt couldn't you about what he found out from the Hydra goon, on account of the fact he had concussion and was asleep. And Bucky's hardly said anything, probably because he's been held against his will for the past seventy years and had horrible things done to him and has a few understandable trust issues."

"Yeah," Natasha said, and leant against the wall, "Sounds about right. So you wanna tell me how you found Bucky?"

Steve sighed. "Guess I might as well explain," he said, and set about telling Natasha exactly where and how they'd found Bucky. "So I suppose now we know it was those Hydra goons who beat him up. And," Steve swallowed, "Why he jammed his arm…"

Natasha furrowed her brow and waited for Steve to continue. Only Steve didn't, but understanding dawned upon Natasha all the same. Bucky knew there was poison in his arm, and that it would kill him. He had thought that if he could remove the arm, he might be able to solve the problem. Only he'd just ended up stuck, and then had been in too much of a state to tell Steve what was happening.

"With all the the super-soldier serum he was juiced up with, and God only know what else they were putting into his system over the years - Nat, there's so much we don't know. We don't know when he last ate a proper meal, or slept in a real bed, or - seventy years, Nat! I can't - I can't comprehend that…"

"Hey," Natasha said, "We got him Steve. We've done it."

Steve rested his head against Natasha. "We're a mess, Nat."

"If you think we're a mess, you should see the kitchen after Sam's cooking."

A noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sob escaped Steve.

"Don't get me wrong," Natasha said, "Sam is an excellent cook, but I swear he uses every single utensil in the kitchen."

"You left me some macaroni?"

"It's in the fridge," Natasha said.

"Good," Steve said and sighed, "I think we're in trouble, Nat."

"With Sam's cooking?"

"If only it could be that simple," Steve said. "No, it's with the stuff with Stark. It's not going to go away. It is wrong. It's against everything this country is about. It encroaches on our liberties and our rights,"

"No one but Captain America uses the word 'liberties' in everyday speech."

"It's not funny, Natasha."

"The situation isn't, no," Natasha said, "But the word 'liberties' kinda is."

Steve scowled and sat up properly.

"I know a pretty great little law firm," Natasha suggested.

"They're kids, Nat."

"They know their stuff, Steve."

Steve sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know," Natasha said and sighed.

"What?" Steve asked, "You heading back to Hell's Kitchen?"

Natasha nodded. "Matt'll be ok, but I - I need to end this properly."

"With Matt?"

Natasha didn't reply.

"You don't have to. There's no law that says you have to. Stay if you want. If you like him."

Natasha shrugged. "I shouldn't have let myself get so involved."

"It wasn't your fault."

Natasha smiled ruefully. "My place is here."

"It's up to you," Steve said, "But don't break it off because you feel you have to."

"No," Natasha said, "I know I have to. I mean, I've already got him shot."

"That's not on you."

"I know," Natasha said, "But," she took a deep breath, "In some other world, maybe. Some other universe where everything doesn't suck so much. Perhaps there."

"Yeah," Steve said, "I know that universe."

"We'll keep him as an ally, just Matt and I personally…"

"I got it," Steve said.

"I better go. Foggy's probably hungry and bored of babysitting Matt. Plus I left all my Widow stuff in Matt's bathroom."

"You ok to drive?"

"I've had two bowls of tuna macaroni, a coffee, and a two-hour cat-nap. I'm good."

"Alright," Steve said.

"I'll - probably stay at Matt's overnight, though. I'll tell him it's not going to work tomorrow. He's probably high on painkillers, anyway. He'll hardly know I'm there tonight. But tonight I think I'll stay."

"You don't need my permission, Nat."

"I'm not asking for it," Natasha said, standing up, "And I guess this is my weekend of penance,"

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"Caring for the sick, blind, and elderly."

"Get out of here," Steve smiled.

"Call me if anything changes."

"You too."

"Will do. See ya, Cap."

"See ya, Nat."


	20. Chapter 20

Natasha opened the car door and was about to climb in when she heard footsteps crunch on the gravel driveway.

"Natasha?"

Natasha looked over the top of the car. "You want a lift back to New York?" she asked Stephen Strange, who was once again in casual clothes, which included his ridiculous cape.

"No," he answered, "Thank-you, but no. Agent Hill has offered me a room here for the next couple of nights, and said that she herself shall see me back to New York. I've called the hospital and rearranged my roster. I want to be sure Barnes quite right before I depart."

"Ok," Natasha said and nodded, "Yeah, great."

"And there is also some extremely interesting technology here that I would not normally have access to."

"Yeah, just don't go making any murder-bots. We've already done that. Didn't end great."

"I know," Strange said, "Although electro-robotic artificial intelligence isn't my area of speciality."

"No," Natasha said, "Turns out it wasn't Tony's either."

"No," Strange said.

"So, you alright if I go? I've got some guys waiting."

"What?"

"What? Oh," Natasha said, "My - Matt and his friend. They'll be waiting. It's nothing weird, I promise. Well, it's a bit weird, but not - you know."

"If you're all happy," Stephen said, moving out of the way of the car, "I'm not one to judge."

"What? No. Oh, whatever. Anyway," Natasha said, "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around then," she said and half sat down in the car.

"Natasha?" Strange said before Natasha closed the door.

"Yes?"

"I, ah," Strange shuffled his feet. "I just wanted to say thank-you. For hooking Barnes up to the IV. You - I didn't think you would. I didn't think any of you would."

"Well, the world's just full of surprises, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," Strange said, "And you're certainly one of them."

"Oh, about time you're back," Foggy said, "Huh, and look, there's Matt's hoodie too. You know that out of all his clothes, that grey hoodie was the one thing he asked for?"

"I was wearing it this morning," Natasha said, closing the door to Matt's apartment behind her.

"Yeah, well I forgot," Foggy said and pushed himself out of the armchair. "Tag team, you're up."

"You don't want to hear what happened?" Natasha asked.

"You saved him," Foggy said, adjusting his jumper.

"How…?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"Right," Natasha said.

"Look," Foggy said, "I'm not trying to be a jerk, so right now, I'm just going to go home, eat some food and go to sleep. Do not call me until like nine tomorrow at the earliest. I'm just too tired. Anything right now, I just don't wanna know."

"Where's Matt now?" Natasha asked, noticing that Matt was no longer on the couch.

"In bed," Foggy said. "I helped him move a couple of hours ago. He's had all the meds he's allowed for the day, so no more until the morning I guess."

"Ok."

"And he had half a bagel around lunchtime, a banana this afternoon, and a whole bagel for dinner. So he won't starve at least."

"Thanks Foggy," Natasha said, "Really."

"Yeah," Foggy said, "Well get your guns off the bathroom floor. And your knickers. I bet this is what having teenagers would be like. They need you at all hours, they leave their weapons and their underwear lying around everywhere, they never tell you everything, they have increasingly mental girlfriends, they get shot with guns and shit. Uh, people suck. See, now I'm all cross at the world and teenagers and you and Matt and everything and stuff."

"Time to go home?" Natasha said.

"Don't tell me what to do. I mean yes. Right," Foggy said, "Goodbye."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, goodnight" Foggy mumbled. Natasha watched as he left Matt's apartment and then went into the bedroom to find Matt lying on his side on the bed.

Natasha looked at Matt. He lay with his eyes shut, but Natasha had a feeling he was still awake. She ran a finger through his hair, but he didn't stir. Natasha climbed out of bed and went to make a cup of tea. She sat on the kitchen bench while she waited for the jug to boil. Steve always told her off for doing that. "Sit on the chairs or sit on the floor, but get off the bench." Natasha chuckled at the memory. She should probably call Steve, she thought, just to check on him. She should probably call Clint too, to fill him in. He'd pretend to be upset to have missed all the drama, but not actually mind. And Tony. Someone had to call Tony and ask him what was going on with all this legal stuff. They were allies, friends, but this was creating a rift between them, even if Steve was yet to admit it. But not now.

Now the jug boiled and Natasha poured the water into the mug. She would call Clint in the morning and tell him she was coming up to the farm next weekend. A break from New York and Matt Murdock and The Avengers and Steve Rogers and James Barnes. A couple of nights being Aunty Nat and playing with the kids and helping out with the baby and jut hanging out with Clint and Laura and pretending to be normal. She could put off calling Tony until Monday.

Natasha carried her cup of tea back into the bedroom and sat down on the bed.

"Nat?" Matt whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Ok…" Matt mumbled.

"You alright?"

"Eh,"

"Do you want me to get off the bed?"

"No,"

"Ok. Because I wasn't going to."

"K…"

"Ok," Natasha said, and took a sip of tea.

"Nat?"

"Yeah?"

Matt grinned.

"What?" Natasha asked.

"Did Foggy… yell at you because your Widow stuff… is in the bathroom?"

"I think he was more concerned about the guns and the underwear."

Matt tried to suppress a laugh, but it came out as a half-laugh, half-choke. "Don't - don't make me laugh. It's hurts."

"Why's it so funny?" Natasha asked.

"B - because your underwear is on my bathroom floor and Foggy saw it."

"It's not even fancy underwear," Natasha said.

"Foggy Nelson's seen Black Widow's underwear. Not even I have done that."

"I think that's the pain-meds talking," Natasha said, and took another sip of tea.

"I mean, I've taken your underwear off…"

"Matt!" Natasha laughed.

Matt smiled. That smile made Natasha want to stay. Stay here, in this small apartment with that stupid neon sign with the blind lawyer, and his best buddy and his nurse friend on call. Matt tipped his head toward Natasha and looked in her direction with his unseeing eyes.

The look made Natasha think of Bucky. The way he'd looked at her. The way it it had felt as though he was looking right inside of her. Natasha had no idea what to think about him. What on earth had possessed her to kiss him? And why had it felt so good? She had definitely lingered, and she was quite sure that however ill he was, Barnes had kissed her back. Should she tell Steve? What if Scott or Strange said something? What if Bucky said something? Natasha sighed and took a sip of tea. Today had been long enough. She would worry about Barnes later.

"Nat?" Matt asked.

"Mmm?"

"Good…"

"Goodnight?"

"No," Matt whispered, a tired smile on his lips, "Just good."


	21. Chapter 21

Foggy had arrived at Matt's apartment just after ten o'clock the following morning, allowing Natasha to head out for a run. The air helped to clear her head. This odd little community of loyal friends Matt had around him intrigued her, but Natasha knew she could not stay. Staying would only be putting Matt in danger. He wasn't the kind of guy to back out of a fight, be it in the law courts, in the streets, or on the battlefield. And Natasha knew she would only get him hurt.

Claire dropped by after lunch to check Matt's injuries.

"Everything's looking clean," she said, "And like it's healing nicely."

"Excellent," Foggy said.

"But I still think Matt needs a few more days of bed rest."

"I can go to work," Matt said.

"On Wednesday," Claire replied.

Before she left, Claire helped Natasha create a fake doctor's certificate for Karen to know the 'official' story regarding Matt's latest set of injuries.

"That's not your signature," Foggy said, peering over Natasha's shoulder as she scribbled a name across the bottom of the page.

"No, because signing 'Natasha Romanov' would be stupid," Natasha replied.

"What name did you use?" Matt asked.

"Stephen Strange," Natasha said, inspecting her illegible handiwork.

"Like that's a real name," Foggy said.

Natasha, Foggy and Matt spent the rest of the afternoon watching ' _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_ '. Natasha had never seen the film, but Foggy, after a couple of beers, and Matt, high on pain killers, appeared to know every word to every song. By the end of the film, Natasha couldn't help but join in when the choruses repeated.

Foggy left just after dinner, and Matt and Natasha had retired to the bedroom. With light beginning to fade from the sky, the glowing billboard across the road made an increasing impact on the light levels in Matt's apartment. Natasha looked at Matt, his face illuminated by the blue-white light of the sign. Matt was tucked in bed, having recently taken his final dose of the extra-strong pain medication Claire had left for him, while Natasha lay on top of the covers.

"Maybe," Natasha said, and rolled over to stare at the ceiling, "We would have worked in some other world." Matt turned his head and his unseeing eyes in her direction. Natasha turned to look at him in return, and gently pushed back his hair from his forehead. "We'd have a house within commuting distance of New York and the Avengers base. It'd have a library with books in English and Russian and braille, and we'd have a big kitchen, and a couple of rescue cats."

"Do we have a garden?" Matt asked.

"Yes," Natasha replied, "A good kitchen garden with herbs and vegetables and a lemon tree. And chickens."

"I don't know if I'd be any good at cleaning out the coop," Matt said.

"We'd go on holidays to Italy and Croatia and go sailing," Natasha continued, allowing herself to run away with the fantasy.

"I can't sail," Matt said, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile. He looked relaxed, Natasha thought. Drowsy and pale, but relaxed.

"I can," she said.

"Good," Matt said, letting her story take his mind away. He liked this world Natasha was describing. It sounded safe and regular and comfortable. "I'd bet you'd enjoy the scenery. I'd enjoy the sun."

"Yeah," Natasha smiled, "And we'd have the weirdest bunch of people around for Thanksgiving - either that, or we'd be having lunch at one place, and dinner at another."

"Christmas would be just as hectic," Matt said, adding to the fantasy, "Church in the morning, then lunch with Foggy's family,"

"And dinner with Steve." Natasha finished.

"Boxing Day to catch up on our new DVDs and music."

"You'd sit with me while I watched DVDs?" Natasha asked.

"Sure," Matt said, "And you'd sit and maybe do some quiet activity while I played my new music."

"Of course," Natasha said, "And shortly after New Year we'd escape the cold to Australia for a fortnight of summer and beaches."

"You like summer?"

"It sure beats blizzards."

"True," Matt said, "And we'd go to the tennis."

"You like tennis?" Natasha asked.

"It's one of the easier sports for me to follow."

"Huh," Natasha said. "So we'd go to the Australian Open?"

"Exactly. We'd probably do a week in Melbourne and a week in Sydney. And maybe a week in New Zealand?"

"And go jet-boating."

"Exactly," Matt said.

"Can you hike?" Natasha asked.

"Reasonably well," Matt said. "We could go kayaking, so long as you steer."

"And then we'd get back to New York, all tanned."

"The others would be so jealous."

It almost felt real. Natasha could almost feel the southern summer sun and see the shimmering aqua waters and awesome mountain ranges of New Zealand. The polite applause of the tennis crowd in Melbourne. Holding Matt's hand while the walked along Bondi Beach on a balmy summers evening. Almost. Natasha moved forward and gently kissed Matt on the lips. "It's just a dream."

"It's a good one," Matt said.

Natasha nodded. "Sorry, I just nodded."

"I know. I think," Matt said, reaching out of the blankets for Natasha's hand, "There's a Hugh Jackman song about this."

"What, impossible dreams?"

"No," Matt said, "About leaving while you're still in love."

"Oh," Natasha said. They hadn't spoken about her leaving, or their relationship or anything of that nature. And they had most certainly not spoken of love. Natasha took Matt's hand. "Are you sure you can't read minds?"

Matt smiled. "Positive."

"You do know I'm going to wait until you're asleep?"

"I know," Matt said, "Which is why I'm trying not to."

"I know," Natasha said. "You really like show tunes?"

"Shut-up," Matt said. "We could go to Broadway, you know. In our other world, I mean. I prefer a stalls seat. It's easier to feel the music if I'm on the same level as the orchestra. And I prefer to sit stage-left. Just an acoustic thing."

"I'll keep that in mind," Natasha said. They lay in silence for a few minutes. Natasha's mind raced with thoughts of an impossible future. Of climbing out of a cab out the front of the theatre. Of taking Matt's arm as they made their way through the foyer to find their seats. Of having to make sure he went into the correct bathrooms at interval. She could see herself in a long dress and Matt in a suit, looking sharp. It must be a gala, Natasha thought, in this dream world if they are so dressed up. Probably something sponsored by Stark Industries. They probably had free tickets. Matt yawned, and the noise pulled Natasha back to the real world. She looked at Matt, now struggling to keep his eyes open. "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"If you ever need anything, anything at all, Matthew Murdock, you have my number."

"Anything?" Matt asked.

"I owe you one. We all do. The Avengers, that is."

"You're not going to disappear like a ghost in the night?"

"That's very poetic."

"I'm on a lot of medication."

"Yeah," Natasha said, "I know."

"I hope you can help Barnes. I really do. Whatever that means for him. I hope it was all worth it."

"It was worth something," Natasha said, "And I think that thing was good. I - I think this one takes a little bit of red out of the ledger."

"What?" Matt asked.

"Never mind," Natasha said.

"You know," Matt said, and suppressed a yawn, "You have my number too, if you need it. For whatever reason. Legal or super or - other."

"Yeah," Natasha said, and watched as Matt slowly closed his eyes. "I know. And I think you're an honorary Avenger now, Murdock."

"It's a good dream," Matt whispered, his lips still curved into a slight smile, "The other world."

Natasha kissed him once more, before slowly sitting up. She pulled the covers up over Matt's shoulders. He looked peaceful. Relaxed. If she didn't go now, Natasha knew she never would. Because there was an 'other' that she wanted, only too much meant it could not be. "Yeah," Natasha said, and nodded to herself, not sure if Matt could still hear her. "The other world."


	22. Chapter 22

_"_ _All geared up for an ordinary Friday night?"_ Natasha asked.

"Yeah," Matt said, lying down on the couch. The whole of the past week had been ordinary to the point of being boring. Of course having a cracker collar bone limited what Matt was able to do, and there were only so many podcasts he could listen to before going mad. But now, Matt wished Natasha was there. He wished he could tell her that. "Nice and boring. Foggy's coming round with pizza. You?"

 _"_ _We'll be binge-watching more 'Parks and Rec' with Bucky. He ships Ben and Leslie like you would not believe. I don't even think he knows what shipping is, but he is doing it."_

"Why 'Parks and Rec'?"

 _"_ _It was one of the first shows we had Steve watch,"_ Natasha said, _"He liked it, and well, it's safe. It's funny and clever and gives some idea of modern America. And it's just nice. Of course, there's sexual references and swears and stuff, but on the whole, it's - well it's just great TV. We've been watching like four hours of it a day all week."_

Matt laughed. "Well, can't say I've ever been much of one for TV."

 _"_ _Gee,"_ Natasha said, " _You don't know what you're missing out on."_

"Ha," Matt said. Natasha had left on Sunday night while Matt slept. When he'd awoken on Monday morning, he'd searched the apartment for anything she may have left. But the bathroom was clear, the bag was gone, and his favourite grey hoodie was folded up neatly and left on his bedside table. Matt knew she was right. They would never work as a couple. He'd only get her hurt. "So how is Barnes?" he asked instead of telling Natasha anything he really wanted to say. He hadn't had any pain killers since Tuesday, and thus could not blame and Freudian slip on that.

 _"_ _Eh,_ " Natasha said. Matt imagined she shrugged. " _He's getting better. The poison knocked him around pretty bad. But, I mean, so did the last seventy years. To be honest, he's a mess, Matt. But he wants to be fixed. He's trying. He wants help. And I think we might be able to."_

"Good," Matt said. He to wanted Barnes to be well. No one deserved what he had been through. But despite the fact that Barnes probably looked like a total wreck and had a tortured past beyond belief, right now Matt couldn't help but envy the man. Bucky got to spend the evening in the company of Natasha.

 _"_ _I mean,_ " Natasha continued, " _His diet currently consists of apples, pears, porridge with honey, and lamb chops with mashed carrots. That's it. That's all he'll eat. But Stephen Strange said it's ok for now, so, whatever, I guess."_

"Yeah," Matt said. He adjusted his position on the couch. He wanted Natasha to keep talking, but knew they were fast running out of things to say. Any minute now, Foggy would arrive with the pizza and beers and they'd eat and drink and laugh and Matt would try not to miss Natasha. He couldn't fully explain to himself why he cared about her so much. They'd only known each other for a couple of weeks, and had only been in the same room a handful of times. It was that age-old adage, Matt thought, whereby we are pulled towards those bound to hurt us the most.

 _"_ _I better go,"_ Natasha said, " _Sam's made popcorn, and he and Steve will eat the lot if I'm not quick. We're up to the episode where they go bowling and Ben punches a guy. Also, the guy who plays Bobby Newport looks so much like Scott Lang, it's unbelievable."_

"I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Matt said. "I, ah," he had nothing more to add. "Have a good night." That was sincere. Matt really did want Natasha to have a good night. He wanted her to have a good life. He wanted her to be happy, and to be with someone who made her so. If the two of them couldn't share their fantastical 'other world', perhaps Natasha at least could find someone else to share it with.

 _"_ _Yeah, you to, Matt. I think Maria will have more stuff sent to you Monday."_

"No problem," Matt said.

 _"_ _I caught up with Tony on Wednesday. We had lunch. I'd hate to think what it cost. Anyway, I heard him out. I get where he's coming from, it's just,"_ Natasha sighed, _"Hardly a day goes by when he's not in the papers or on TV something, trying to get support for a Registration Act. Steve hates it, but we don't know what to do."_

"Me neither," Matt said. "I'm still looking for a loop hole or constitutional objection or something, but I've got nothing, Nat. And I - it worries me. I can't tell people who I am. It would put everyone at risk. I can't do that."

 _"_ _I know,"_ Natasha said, _"I know where you're coming from, Matt. I really do."_

"Matty! Pizza! Come and open the door for me please!" Foggy called from the hallway.

"I gotta go," Matt said.

 _"_ _Enjoy your evening."_

"Thanks. You too."

 _"_ _See you round, Matt."_

"Not if I see you first." Matt hung up his phone and pushed himself off the couch, slipping his phone into his pocket.

"Matt! The pizza's getting cold. I'm just going to eat it in the hallway if you don't hurry up."

"I'm coming," Matt laughed, "Give a blind cripple a chance," he said, and opened the door to let Foggy in.

...

A month later, Matt stood on the rooftop, surveying his city. The wind confused his sense of smell, but it felt good to be back. A new suit, since they other one had a bullet hole in it, and a new set of allies, should the need arise. Tonight, however, the city seemed quite. The wind brought the smell of Korean take-away, diesel and salt water. A block over, a teething baby cried. Most households were either watching the game. Someone in Matt's building laughed. Cars tooted. A truck rumbled along. A police siren echoed through empty streets.

There had been reports in the media of a lone gunman in New York over the past fortnight. His latest attack had been just south of Hell's Kitchen. Matt didn't want the kind of character in his neighbourhood, but had a bad feeling it wouldn't be long before a victim of the gunman was found in Hell's Kitchen. The media were beginning to connect the dots between the victims, and the style of the killings. The man showed no mercy, and in turn the media had called him 'The Punisher'. The thought of him made Matt's skin crawl.

But tonight the city was quiet.

* * *

A/N: Thank you, dear reader, very much for making it to the end of this tale! What was originally outlined as a 5-6 part little story grew and grew and changed direction slightly after Ant-Man came out, and then went and grew some more. The favourites, follows and comments are all very much appreciated. Please share the story with your friends and communities, and thanks again for reading. I very much hope you enjoyed it :)

\- Stella.


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